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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410990">Your Hair Was Long When We First Met</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonySawicki/pseuds/TonySawicki'>TonySawicki</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dir en grey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(in the past), Acephobia, Alternate Universe - Fashion &amp; Models, Alternate Universe - Hair Salon, Angst, Asexuality Spectrum, Bad Decisions, Clothed Sex, Eventual Happy Ending, Fantasy vs. Desire, Frottage, In which Kyo is a hairdresser, Insecurity, Internalized Acephobia, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Not in a fun way, Oral Sex, POV Alternating, Pining, Slow Burn, Slut Shaming, Understanding, poor communication, uncomfortable sexual situations</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:07:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>101,299</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23410990</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonySawicki/pseuds/TonySawicki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Die's regular hair stylist moves out of town, his friend recommends that he start seeing someone new. But this new guy isn't anything like what Die expected, and he can't quite tell if that's a good thing or a bad thing...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Die &amp; Shinya (Dir en grey), Die/Kyo (Dir en grey), Kyo &amp; Toshiya (Dir en grey)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Toshiya</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay! New fic, new AU! Happy birthday Toshiya! (This first chapter is actually the only one (probably) in the whole thing that is kind of from Toshiya's perspective, so that's appropriate. He's in the rest of the story, too, but the other chapters go back and forth between Die and Kyo.)<br/>So. About this one. I've kind of been putting off posting it for a while, partly because I don't know wtf I'm talking about with the characters' work fields, but mostly because this story is kind of outrageously self-indulgent in more ways than one and I don't know how it'll go over. There's the obvious, which is "don't we all love it when Kyo does people's hair, let's have a whole AU about it", but I also am using this fic to do some ehhh explorations and discussion about asexuality. <br/>Obviously everyone's experience is different, and I want to say upfront that I'm making no claims that this is some kind of comprehensive explanation of people who are ace and how they do relationships. But there's something I've seen a lot, especially in fic, where there's a character who isn't interested in/doesn't enjoy sex, and then the beautiful Romantic Interest comes in and changes all that, and shows them they just "never had a good partner" and they live sexily ever after. I'm not saying that's never the case in real life, but it seems like it might create worrying expectations for people, or perpetuate the harmful idea that asexuality can be "cured" or ace people need to be "fixed." Now it's not fanfiction's job to present only healthy relationships and ideas, but after seeing it so much, I thought I wanted to tell the other story, where maybe it's not that simple. So this is long and complicated.<br/>The chapters are short though! So, I'm not sure, I might start updating three times a week.<br/>All right, that's enough notes, I just didn't want anyone taken by surprise when the story isn't quiiiite typical romance and smut. We'll see how it goes. Thanks and love to you all.<br/>ps title is from Regina Spektor's "Samson" which is a great song</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Sunlight streamed in through the salon’s front window, making Toshiya wish he could wear his sunglasses at work. It wasn’t like they would detract from the company image—they were expensive and fashionable—but he knew if he even tried to take them out of his bag he’d never hear the end of it. Security cameras were positioned around the salon, and that kind of thing <em>always</em> made it back to the owners.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> No, it was his job to look friendly and approachable, and being able to see his eyes was part of that. He hoped squinting and grimacing helped him look friendly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hadn’t always felt such animosity towards the people for whom he worked. When he’d first started there, the owners had been a cute, laid-back couple, probably fewer than ten years older than Toshiya himself. They’d had a vision for a salon with a lot of personal style, and Toshiya had liked that about them; how they hired people without judgment, based on skill alone. The husband had been really into sand-surfing, and the wife sewed her own clothes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In recent years, things had changed. The salon, while it wasn’t struggling, wasn’t quite as popular and successful as the owners had dreamt. Their actual involvement with the business decreased as they focused their attentions on other moneymaking projects, but their demands seemed to grow every year, and they’d gotten paranoid about how things were run, suspicious and watchful of their employees’ every move.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sometimes Toshiya wondered exactly when his patience for the whole matter would burn out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Who’s my next appointment again?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya glanced over to see Kyo leaning on the corner of his counter, facial expression disinterested as ever. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You want me to get you a printout?” Toshiya offered. “Just because this is the third time you’ve asked today.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, what, you expect me to remember shit?” Kyo’s nose crinkled. “I can’t even remember these people’s names for the hour that I’m standin’ there cutting their hair.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s why I thought you might like to have a printout.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo waved a dismissive hand. “Then I don’t have coming over here to ask you about the schedule to break up the monotony of the day.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s starting to feel pretty monotonous to me,” Toshiya muttered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I thought I was providing entertainment for you, too,” Kyo said. “You’re not dealing with some huge rush or anything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t mind talking to you,” Toshiya conceded. “It’s just the subject matter that’s gotten tired. You could still come over here without asking me about your appointments.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll consider it. Now who do I have next?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya sighed, and pulled the information up on his mounted tablet. “Your next appointment isn’t until Hiji-san at two-thirty pm, because Nishikawa-san canceled.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo groaned, and let his face fall forward onto his arms on the counter. “That’s so long from now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You could go get lunch?” Toshiya suggested. “Oh, or you could go get coffee, and bring me back some!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not hungry,” Kyo said, frowning. His glasses had slid down his nose and he peered up at Toshiya over the top of them. “Think I could get away with taking a nap?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Doubtful.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Damn,” Kyo said. He looked back at the empty salon floor. There were no customers at the moment, and all the other hairdressers were reading or working quietly at their stations. “Well. Call me if anything exciting happens,” he said, and went skulking back to his own station.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya knew Kyo well enough to guess at what he’d do with the free time: probably sketch, maybe write in his little leather-bound notebook. Despite his coming to Toshiya for distraction, Kyo was really a man of few words, and somehow even fewer social interactions. He didn’t get along well with most people, and Toshiya knew he only spoke to him so often because there really wasn’t anyone else at the salon he <em>could</em> talk to.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t like Toshiya minded him, anyway. Kyo was right that it wasn’t busy, and Kyo was reasonably interesting, but Toshiya had been scolded in the past for seeming too chatty with the hairdressers and it “negatively impacting his approachability.” Bullshit.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, he people-watched, made up stories about the figures who passed by the front window.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That woman with a dog was a witch, her dog, one of her victims; the couple holding hands were members of a team of spies, and dating was part of their cover; that ridiculously beautiful man with the long, flowing hair was an angel trapped on earth while he worked a mission for some higher power, and—oh shit, he was actually coming into the salon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hello,” the angel said briskly. He didn’t take off his sunglasses.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya envied him, feeling even more than usual that he could use the extra protection from how brightly this stranger shone. He replied, “Hi.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I want to make an appointment.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay,” Toshiya said. He was puzzled by his own inability to form full-length sentences.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you have openings, or…?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right, um.” Toshiya blinked until he could focus on the appointment schedule still open on his tablet. “We actually had a couple cancellations today—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The angel shook his head. “Not today, I don’t have time.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh. Okay.” Toshiya tapped the screen, brought up the schedule for the coming week. “Yoshiko has an opening Monday morning, or Suda-san is available in the afternoon—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you have a ‘Kyo’ working here?” The angel’s tone was still impatient, but his face—what Toshiya could see around the huge, designer shades—looked almost nervous.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We do,” Toshiya said slowly. “You’d like an appointment with Kyo, specifically?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sunglasses were pushed up on the angel’s nose, despite Toshiya not having seen them slide down at all. “If possible. A friend recommended this place to me, said Kyo is who he trusts with his hair.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya smiled. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased to hear that.” He wouldn’t really, Toshiya knew. Kyo never gave a flying fuck what other people thought of him, but Toshiya still thought it was nice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, when could I see him?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya’s eyes scanned the screen before he said, “How about eleven am on Wednesday?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The angel pulled out his phone, looked at it with pursed lips, typed a few things, and then looked back up at Toshiya. “Perfect.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh! Good!” Toshiya said in some surprise. “I’ll put that in for you.” He selected the time slot on the schedule. “Could I get your name please?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um, I’m sorry, that’s—?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “D-I-E, English,” the angel said dispassionately.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay. Die. Wonderful.” Toshiya saved his changes to the schedule. “If I could get your credit card information, just to—" He cut himself off as he saw that a card was already being held out to him between two fingers. "Ah. Thank you." He entered the information into the system, handed the card back, and warned the angel that he could be charged for a late cancelation. Finishing up, he offered, "</span>
  <span class="s1">Would you like an appointment reminder card, or we could send you an email…?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That won’t be necessary, thank you.” Die tossed his long hair back over his shoulder. “I suppose I’ll see you on Wednesday.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya bowed. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He watched Die leave with some lingering fascination. Was that man truly just a mortal earthling, or some visiting heavenly form?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He spent another minute swiping through pages of the schedule, curious which of Kyo’s clients had recommended him. Was there anyone who existed on a comparable level of glamour to the person to whom he’d just spoken?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At any rate, he thought the whole thing had been exciting enough to warrant calling Kyo over to tell him about it. “Oh, Kyo-oo, I got you a new client~”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Eh? For now?” Kyo’s voice carried up to the front.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, no…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmph.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “For Wednesday.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Whatever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya frowned, and went back to find Kyo at his work station, sketchbook open on his lap just as Toshiya had expected. “Be interested!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Be interesting,” Kyo countered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You were the one complaining about a shortage of appointments.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, right <em>now</em>,” Kyo said. “You know I’m not gonna remember by the time Wednesday rolls around that I have a new client, and that it won’t matter whether I remember then or not, ‘cause <em>boom</em>, there they’ll be.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But it’s the <em>person</em> who I think is pretty… intriguing,” Toshiya said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo still didn’t look up from his sketchbook, but one eyebrow arched. “How so?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He seemed kind of intense. He said a friend had recommended our salon—he asked for <em>you</em>, specifically, by name!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That earned him a little puzzled look. “So who’s the friend?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know,” Toshiya admitted. “He didn’t say.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But he said that the friend trusts you with his hair.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya watched as Kyo rolled the words around in his head, his expression thoughtful, and then shrugged.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He had a strange English name,” Toshiya went on. “The new client, not the friend.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo tipped his head to one side. “Foreign?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, he was Japanese,” Toshiya said. “Androgynous. And really, really good-looking.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh.” Kyo rolled his eyes. “Is that why you’re all excited?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think even you would have to admit he’s attractive,” Toshiya said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I have no problem acknowledging that people are objectively attractive,” Kyo argued. “I just… don’t generally feel that way about them.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This guy might be different!” Toshiya insisted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can we just drop it?” Kyo said sharply, and Toshiya knew he’d pushed it too far. He usually did.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The fact was that he and Kyo had worked together almost five years, and Kyo hadn’t been on a single date in that entire time. Toshiya worried about him. He’d seen him show a passing interest in someone once or twice, but he was never invested, and he didn’t seem to do much in the way of casual hookups either.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was something Toshiya could never fully understand, personally. He felt like his own heart tried to leap out of his mouth and launch itself at any cute boy who walked in the door. He fell in love every other week. He’d even fallen for Kyo, back when they first met.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It only made sense, with how Kyo was so sort of mysterious and gentle, and obviously physically attractive, all full lips and soft eyes, his body small but muscular. Toshiya had had to learn to get over him pretty quickly as he learned that Kyo didn’t return his—or anyone’s—interest.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At the time, Toshiya had swallowed down his disappointment, comforted by the fact that it seemed like Kyo was actually just asexual.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then he’d overheard Kyo mentioning an ex-girlfriend, and the comfort he’d taken had been taken from him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Asexuality is a spectrum,” Kyo had said to him, reasonably. “It’s—For <em>me</em>, it’s not that I can’t fall in love, or that I don’t <em>like people</em>. I think I have the capacity to be interested in basically anyone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re just not,” Toshiya had said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had shrugged. “No, not really. Every once in a while, I’ll meet someone, bond with them, and feel close enough to want a relationship, but even then it’s not really a sexual thing, you know? That shit just doesn’t <em>matter</em> to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So you really never see someone new and think, ‘Damn, there’s someone whose bones I’d like to jump’?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya still remembered the uncomfortable look on Kyo’s face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Privately, Toshiya had wondered if that meant he still stood a chance; if he might bond with Kyo and reach a place of some deeper affection later in the course of their knowing each other—but in all honesty, Toshiya wasn’t interested in waiting around.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, much as Toshiya wanted to be supportive of Kyo and his persistently single ways, he could help but keep an eye out for someone who might be what Kyo didn’t know he was looking for. He might deny it, but Toshiya knew that Kyo was lonely, and that he deserved to find someone who would look after him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya went back to the front desk feeling guilty, as he often did when he pushed Kyo to the point where he snapped at him. He should have known better, that it was something of a touchy subject for Kyo. But as he sat back on his stool and looked at Die’s name still highlighted on the schedule, he couldn’t help but think there might be something different about this angel.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all so much for your positive response to the start of this story. I'm still nervous about it, but! It's nice to know some of y'all will be here with me, so thanks.<br/>(ps Wow this chapter is so short sorry about that)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The meeting had run later than Die had hoped, and the sun was starting to set by the time he got to his car, meaning that it was at the absolute most annoying point in the sky as he was trying to drive. Even with his sunglasses on and the car’s visor down, he was steering one-handed, keeping his other hand shielding his eyes enough to see the road ahead of him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He breathed a sigh of relief as it finally disappeared behind a hill.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Traffic was still hideous, and Die tried to muster his patience as he hit yet another red light. That just seemed to be the way things were going for him lately.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He raised the volume on his car stereo, and pulled his hair into a ponytail in an attempt to get it off his neck. His hand dragged through it, all split ends and snarls. Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The phone rang and Die answered, let it come through his car speakers. “This is Die.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey, I got your message.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die smiled, hearing his friend’s voice. “Hey! I was gonna call you when I got home.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, did they give you an answer already?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’re good to go,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a quiet cheer across the phone line, and Die let himself keep smiling.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Listen, I’m heading your direction right now,” he said. “Did you want to meet for dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The Chinese place?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sounds good,” Die said. “See you in twenty.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The call disconnected, and Die changed lanes to start towards the Chinese restaurant. He was dressed down and his hair was a mess, but Shinya was one of the few people in the world Die never felt like he had to dress up for.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Twenty minutes later, Die was walking into the little Chinese restaurant, eyes scanning the dining room for the impeccable blonde hair of his friend, Shinya. He had a way of standing out even with his understated personality, and as soon as Die spotted him, he headed to his table.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right on time,” Shinya remarked as he sat down.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’d never keep you waiting,” Die said. “Not intentionally, anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course, I can’t forget a handful of times when you just got <em>so</em> tied up…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Never because I wanted to!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That I didn’t hear from you until the following <em>day</em>…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die scowled. “C’mon, that was <em>one time</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But hardly an isolated incident,” Shinya said. “It was only one time because after that we put into effect the rule that <em>I</em> would call <em>you</em> once it got past the two-hour mark.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve been better recently.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You have,” Shinya allowed. “And I appreciate that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s just, you know how work is sometimes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I didn’t think work was quite the manner in which you were <em>tied up</em> in the past.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “All right, all right.” Die picked up his menu, glanced at it, and closed it again; he always ordered the same thing when he came here. “The point is, look how on time I am right now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And there won’t be any problems with your appearing on the show?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I told you,” Die said, picking up on some of the subtle nervousness in Shinya’s tone. “At first they were on the fence—you know how Nakamura is, always has to check everything like fifty times before she gives it her approval—but they watched some of the videos from your channel and they think it’s a good fit, good publicity.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. You know I don’t want to get you in trouble with management or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know,” Die said. He called the waiter over and put in their orders.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, then,” Shinya said as the waiter walked away, “when will we be able to film?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This week?” Die said, then frowned. “Or maybe next week. I really need to get something done about my hair before then.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya tilted his head. “Did you check out the place I recommended?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I did,” Die said, but if he was being honest, he hadn’t felt totally convinced during his short visit. “I don’t know, Shin, the guy at the desk seemed kind of spacey.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But he’s not going to be the one doing your hair,” Shinya said. “Were you able to get the appointment with Kyo?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. “Wednesday. Just… you know this is important to me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, I know,” Shinya said, rolling his eyes. “But Kyo has been doing my hair for the past two years, and doesn’t it always look good?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Tempted as Die was to argue, he really couldn’t; Shinya’s hair <em>did</em> always look good. It was always soft and shiny, and never seemed to get tangled or messed up, even under the wildest of circumstances.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ever since Miki told me she was moving, I’ve been having anxiety about it,” Die said. He played idly with the ends of his ponytail as he spoke. “I even tried to arrange it so I could just go visit her for regular hair appointments, but with the baby coming and everything, her focus just isn’t on hair.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mmhmm.” Shinya was scrolling on his phone. He’d heard this whole story before, Die knew, but Die couldn’t help but repeat himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If this guy fucks up my hair, you know, it interferes with my <em>work</em>, and—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kyo isn’t going to do anything bad to your hair,” Shinya said, with a surprising amount of patience for someone who was interrupting. He put his phone face-down on the table. “Did you get to meet him when you were there?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I only talked to the guy at the desk,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. “I really think you’ll like Kyo when you meet him.” He took a sip of his drink, and added, “And I don’t just mean in a gay way.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die scoffed. “I’m—It’s not like I can be won over by any random attractive guy you put in front of me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not passing judgment about whether or not you’re a slut,” Shinya said calmly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die covered his face with his hands. “Stoppp, I kind of am!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya shrugged. “<em>I</em> didn’t say it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Reluctantly, Die uncovered his face. “So… This Kyo is. Pretty good-looking?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya’s expression passed through a few strange formations before he said again, “I think that you’ll like him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That struck Die as somehow ominous, but their food arrived then, and they set in on eating, the conversation turning back to the upcoming video in which Die would be featured on Shinya’s channel.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was something they’d been trying to get to happen for a while now, but they’d had to go through all the proper channels so as not to make any problems. Shinya had been immensely patient through it all, not that Die expected anything less of him. If nothing else, he could generally count on Shinya’s being patient.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, I was thinking we’d do a pretty basic walk-through of how you achieve your daily look,” Shinya said. “You can show off any of your favorite products.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die raised an eyebrow. “Me showing off even just my favorite <em>hair</em> products is gonna take up like six episodes of your show all on its own.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Just pick a <em>few</em>,” Shinya stressed. “Ones you actually use everyday—moisturizer, eyeliner, whatever else.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Like choosing between my children.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We do have a time limit.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll try to narrow it down,” Die said with an exaggerated sigh.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die took a bite of his food, chewed, and swallowed before he asked, “Do you think it’s gonna be interesting?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do you mean? Of course it will.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But my routine really isn’t all that riveting. I should know.” Die looked down at his Szechuan beef. “I don’t want to bring your views down by being dull.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you joking?” Shinya said. “You know how popular you are. Everyone will be thrilled to get the inside scoop on your beauty regimen.” He sipped his tea. “If you end up being boring once you start talking, I’ll fix it in post. But it’s not like you don’t know how to behave in front of a camera.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Modeling’s not the same as what you do,” Die said, shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then just think how many times you’ve told me I’m physically and socially awkward, and I still have tens of thousands of subscribers,” Shinya said. “It must not be too difficult if I can do it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shifted guiltily. He had often commented on the stiff way in which his friend conducted himself in company, or told him that he acted more like a robot than a human, but it was really unfair of him. He knew that Shinya did perfectly well socially. He had countless friends and acquaintances, and was liked by just about everyone he met.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was more than Die could claim about himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sure, he knew people liked him in a shallow kind of way, found him attractive enough, but he sometimes struggled to connect with people on any deeper level, to feel like they really liked him for who he was, rather than who he knew, or how he looked.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die let Shinya steer the conversation for the rest of the meal, all too aware that his greatest skills lay in being quiet and looking pretty.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(In which Kyo has absolutely zero patience for BS of any kind...)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kyo stood in front of the mirror at his work station, snipping somewhat arbitrarily at the front of his own hair. When he was satisfied with its unevenness, he dropped the scissors in the bin with his other used pairs to be cleaned at the end of the day, and swept the tufts of aqua green up off the floor.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was Wednesday, a day when he knew he didn’t always have all that many clients, and he was trying to keep himself busy for as long as possible before he pissed Toshiya off by going and asking him about the schedule.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Toshiya was fed up with his pestering him. He also wasn’t oblivious to how Toshiya had been <em>more</em> fed up with him ever since the salon’s owners had come down on him a bit hard for “socializing” during work hours. It didn’t make any sense to Kyo, since what made Toshiya good at his front desk job was his sociable nature. But then, the owners were never around much these days to see that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Much as he tried, Kyo couldn’t distract himself forever, and after about fifteen minutes he was slinking up to the front desk.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can you just remind me who I have next?” he requested.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya tsk’ed, but pulled up the schedule anyway. His eyes went wide. “Oh, it’s that guy!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What guy?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The one I was way too excited about,” Toshiya said. “The pretty one with the English name.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Fuck, man, I can’t speak English,” Kyo complained.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He’s Japanese!” Toshiya said. “I told you all this before.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Masaki came over from his own station. “Wait, are you talking about the guy who was in here the other day?” he asked Toshiya. “The redhead?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya nodded eagerly. “You saw him!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And I saw his name on the schedule,” Masaki said. “Die. Don’t you know who he is?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head tiredly. Toshiya just looked interested.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He’s a model,” Masaki said. “Like a big-time one, not like on-the-side, like my gigs." He crossed to the waiting area and picked up a magazine from the table at random. He flipped through it as he walked back to them, and held it open to a page advertising some cologne that was way out of Kyo’s price range. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The man in the ad was somewhere between demonic and angelic, the lines of his face too sharp and defined for a regular human, the focus of his eyes too intense to look at for long. It was a nicely shot photo, Kyo observed. He wondered who had designed the makeup.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, geez,” Toshiya said. He took the magazine and studied the spread more closely. “And he’s coming <em>here</em>?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t get it,” Kyo said, rubbing at his eye behind his glasses. “Big-shot model like that—doesn’t he <em>have</em> someone to cut his hair for him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, yeah, he does,” Masaki said, giving Kyo a pointed look. “And it’s <em>you</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Just then the front door opened and a lot of loud English filled the salon as a man came in, speaking on the phone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya snapped the magazine shut and hid it under the sign-in clipboard.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo watched the action, confused, and let his gaze fall back to the newcomer—a tall, elegant man, dressed all in black, with huge sunglasses blocking half his face. His blondish red hair was pulled back in a messy bun and his leather jacket probably cost more than Kyo’s laptop. All at once he realized this was the guy they’d just been talking about, and judging by the looks on his companions’ faces, he’d been a little slow on that uptake.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The model was still hovering in the waiting area, immersed in his phone conversation, which Kyo couldn’t follow at all. He tried to pick out English words that he recognized, but it was either going too fast or was too far down an unfamiliar path vocabulary-wise ‘cause he couldn’t make head nor tails of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He kept watching Die anyway, trying to see what Toshiya had been so worked up about. It was clear enough that he was handsome—he’d have to be in his line of work. As Kyo studied his profile from this safe distance, he wouldn’t deny the aesthetic appeal of his jawline, his throat. It made sense that he was a model; he obviously had a kind of grace and charisma about him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had read the tone of the English as some sort of argument, so loud and fast and harsh—but then a strange thing happened: Die laughed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Or no, that wasn’t quite it. Die… <em>giggled</em>. It was so surprising coming out of this imposing and put-together man that Kyo didn’t stop himself from reacting, his eyebrows shooting up and his whole body flinching. What kind of noise was that for someone who looked like Die to make?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The phone call wrapped up shortly thereafter, and Die approached the counter where the three of them were still standing, blatantly watching him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry about that,” Die said in Japanese. “Work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No problem,” Toshiya said hurriedly. “Kyo was just preparing for your appointment.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s eyes passed over Kyo and landed on Masaki. He smiled. “Kyo. Pleasure to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Masaki laughed awkwardly and shook his head. Taking a step backwards, he waved towards Kyo with a quietly uttered, “Not—not me…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo raised a hand in greeting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die stared at him, took his sunglasses off, his smile fading into an expression of practiced neutrality. “You’re Kyo.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s me,” Kyo said. He wasn’t sure how to interpret the way Die was looking at him. There was something there, not exactly disappointment or displeasure, but maybe a guarded curiosity? </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well. Good to meet you,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, same to you,” Kyo said, and inclined his head. “Shall we…?” He gestured towards the back, where the sinks and haircutting stations were located, and Die nodded and followed him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo could tell Toshiya and Masaki were still watching them as they walked away, but he was afraid they were getting their hopes up for nothing; he didn’t expect to have anything exciting to tell them when he was finished with the appointment. He’d never been great at making smalltalk, and he doubted that such a tradition would break for this new guy, even if he was featured in every magazine in the waiting area.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, we’ll start over at the sinks,” Kyo said, motioning for Die to go ahead while he grabbed a few items from his station. “Go on and get comfortable, any sink is fine.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die gave him an odd, lingering look, and then went on. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo watched from the corner of his eye as Die removed his leather jacket and folded it before laying it on the dry area of the counter near the sinks. He chose the one on the end, farthest from anyone else in the salon. He took his hair down and shook it out, long red waves falling well past his shoulders. Then, he sat down, crossed one leg over the other, and waited, his facial expression surprisingly soft on all those angled planes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he finally crossed over to the sink, Kyo didn’t say anything aside from instructing Die on how to position himself so his hair could be washed. He set in to his work, running the little shower head over Die’s flowing hair, turned dark in the water.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die didn’t speak either, only let out a few pleased sighs as Kyo’s hands moved through his hair, massaged along his scalp.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had to admit, he was king of impressed by how soft Die’s hair was. He had to wonder at the hair care regimen that this guy used. To his surprise, the question was halfway to his mouth before he quashed it. He didn’t <em>like</em> chatting with his clients and he wasn’t going to start now, just because some tall, English-speaking model had soft hair.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In time, Kyo finished, and prompted Die to sit up. He wrung the majority of the water from his hair, and passed him a towel to catch the drips. He picked up the leather jacket from the counter himself, and led Die over to his work station.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The jacket was set off to the side in plain sight, and Kyo draped a cape over Die the moment he was seated. He wasted no time in gathering his hair out of his face and starting to comb through it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The silence was broken when Die cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to ask what I want done today?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo paused. “Do you want to tell me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do you mean? You’re supposed to ask.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not going to ask just to boost your power-hungry ego,” Kyo said with a shrug.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die turned in his chair to give Kyo an incredulous look. “Are you for real?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was losing patience with this banter. “Do you want me to do your hair or not?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How did you even get a job here?” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo sighed. “I dunno, man, these assholes just keep coming in and requesting me by name, I don’t know what to tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die gaped at him, and okay, to be honest, it was a bit further than Kyo usually pushed things, but he really couldn’t stand it when someone came in acting all entitled. If they wanted him to cut their hair, they could treat him like a fucking person. His providing a service that they wanted didn’t make him subhuman.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo took a step back and swept an arm out towards the door. “Feel free to leave if you don’t like how I do things.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wasn’t gonna stand there and take this guy’s shit after all, and he didn’t care if it led to a complaint against him; he’d take the lecture and move on with his life. He was reasonably confident that if the salon owners wanted to fire him they’d have done it already, probably after the debacle with the girl who had turned out to be the governor’s niece.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Though, in his defense, it had been <em>her request</em> that he shave half her head. Who was he to deny his clients what they asked for?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was less agreeable than that girl had been, muttering, “Unbelievable,” as he shuffled to unfasten the cape from around his neck, and floundered with his arms partly trapped. “Can’t believe Shinya would recommend someone clearly fucking deranged.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo froze, spun Die’s chair to face him. “Wait. Did you say Shinya?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was still glaring at him, but he was frozen, too, no longer fighting the cape. “My friend,” he said through his teeth.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo stayed standing there, effectively blocking Die’s escape route, though he supposed he had enough of a height advantage on him he could probably physically force him out of the way if he tried.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He had to do some thinking. Shinya wasn’t just some random customer, he was someone Kyo actually <em>liked</em>. He’d been coming to him for years, and while Shinya was by no means a chatterbox, Kyo never actually minded when he spoke to him. If he was the friend who had sent this Die to him, well, that changed things somewhat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you going to let me out of here?” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo pursed his lips. “No.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sputtered at him, looked like he was about to push himself up from the chair and plow right through Kyo where he stood, but Kyo just held up a hand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If Shinya sent you, then out of respect for him, I will cut your hair.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What about respect for <em>me</em>?” Die said indignantly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “I don’t know you. So far you haven’t given me any real reason to respect you.” He swiveled the chair back to face the mirror without giving Die a chance to argue.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I—My—” Die’s shoulders sagged in defeat as Kyo resumed combing his hair. For a long time he just stayed quiet, only finally speaking up when Kyo needed to take the next step, and then his tone was somewhat apologetic. “My regular stylist, she moved out of the city, and I’ve been in a panic. But Shinya brought up your name…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wasn’t interested in the whole story. “I assume you want it more or less maintained as is.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…Yes, please.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I live to serve,” Kyo deadpanned, and after an uncertain pause, Die snorted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They didn’t really need to discuss it any more than that; Die’s hair was reasonably easy to work with, and Kyo was something of an expert when it came to mixing and matching colors. He worked without interruption, and if Die had any more complaints, he didn’t voice them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was as enjoyable as any hair appointment Kyo had had. Maintaining the styling done by someone else didn’t allow Kyo as much creativity as he liked, but Die’s hair was still kind of fun, and didn’t give him any unexpected trouble.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> By the time he was finished, and just blowing Die’s hair dry, he could tell that Die had relaxed considerably, and when he stood up, he bowed and thanked Kyo sincerely for his work.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo returned the gesture, but shrugged afterward. “Guess there’s a reason I have this job after all, eh?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die grimaced. “I… should never have been so rude. I apologize for what I said before.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t actually care much what this guy or any random client said to him, but he nodded. “No worries.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He set to cleaning up his station without sparing Die another glance, only pausing when Toshiya was all at once there, directly in front of him, in the middle of his path where he’d been sweeping up the bits of red hair he’d trimmed from the ends of Die’s mane.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t ‘what’s up’ me,” Toshiya said impatiently. “<em>Die</em>, how was he? What was he like?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Same as any other jerk whose hair I do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Stop that, he was not!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You expect him to have been some life-changing experience, but he really wasn’t,” Kyo said tiredly. He realized Masaki had sidled over to listen as well, though he was a shade more subtle than Toshiya. “I hate to disappoint, but we really didn’t get to know each other or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe you can talk more next time,” Masaki suggested.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo laughed shortly. “Yeah, I really doubt there’ll be a next time. Don’t think he liked me much.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He must’ve liked something about you, ‘cause he made another appointment with you six weeks from now,” Toshiya said with an arched eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked up from his dustpan to Toshiya’s face. “He what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He came straight to the desk after you finished with him,” Toshiya said. “He didn’t mention anything about disliking you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wasn’t sure what to say to that. He hadn’t noticed Die stopping by the desk on his way out, but he really hadn’t been paying much attention to him, and even if he had, he’d have figured it was because he was paying cash. He also wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He’d seen Die as kind of stuck-up and rude, like most of his clients—but he was a friend of Shinya’s, and Shinya was decent. Like actually decent, as far as Kyo had ever been able to tell. And Die’s hair was pretty fun to work with… If he became one of his regulars, maybe he’d let him really style it sometime.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, cool,” Kyo said finally. “More money is good money.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Masaki was still there, frowning. “He really didn’t talk to you at all? I don’t know how you manage that. I can never get my clients to stop chatting.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You probably respond,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, you don’t even <em>respond</em>?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not in a way that makes them think I’d want to continue the conversation,” Kyo said. “Sure, some of them go on talking anyway, but I’m pretty good at tuning people out.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Really? This is something I didn’t know about you,” Toshiya said drily.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t think this guy—Die—was a big talker, though,” Kyo said. He carried the dustpan over to empty it into the trash. “Besides some arguing and rudeness he stayed quiet.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Masaki looked alarmed and opened his mouth like he was going to ask him to elaborate, but Toshiya laid a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You must’ve done all right with his hair anyway,” Toshiya said. “And lucky for you, you won’t have to see him again until his appointment next month.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He led a still clearly-disturbed Masaki away, leaving Kyo alone again at his station, and Kyo let the matter drop from his mind as he finished cleaning up.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>~3 updates a week time~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Die refused to contact Shinya right after his hair appointment. It was tempting, since the whole thing had been kind of bizarre, but he didn't want to give Shinya the satisfaction.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was sure that any strong or emotional reaction would only lead Shinya to think he’d taken an <em>interest</em> in that—<em>Kyo</em>. It didn’t matter how negative a reaction it was, Shinya would still get that coy, knowing look on his face, like he knew what Die was feeling better than he knew himself. And maybe he usually did, but not this time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Whatever Shinya might think, whatever he’d said from the beginning, that Die was going to <em>like</em> this Kyo character—it was far from the truth. Die really hadn’t liked him at all. He’d found him difficult and unprofessional, careless, and with such <em>attitude</em>. Sure, Die wasn’t blind, and he could see that Kyo was attractive in a subtle, nerdy kind of way with his little wire-rimmed glasses and his nice jawline, but really, compared even to the other staff at the same salon he was hardly anything special.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die wouldn’t deny that he’d felt incredibly relaxed having his hair washed, but that was something he usually enjoyed. Kyo’s hands had been strong and careful in his hair, despite Kyo’s generally lazy demeanor—no, that wasn’t quite right, not <em>lazy</em>, just… stubborn and irresponsible and rude. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And why did he have to be so weird anyway? Presumably he’d chosen to work in that field, so why did he have to act so unlike any other industry professional Die had ever encountered before? </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As a model, Die had worked with countless hair and makeup artists, and naturally, some of them had been less than great. He’d worked with people who were catty or just seemed to have no idea what they were doing, but that wasn’t how he would describe Kyo’s problem. Kyo seemed like he absolutely knew how to do hair, he just didn’t <em>care</em> about whatever rules he was supposed to follow. He wasn’t tied down to procedure and social custom, and was fearless in the face of an unhappy customer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So why the hell had Die made another appointment with him?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He stood in front of his full-length mirror at home, turning to see his newly-styled hair from all angles. It did look good.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Who was he kidding, it looked <em>fantastic</em>. Kyo had managed to match his usual color without any trouble at all, but made it more vibrant than he’d seen it in ages. He’d trimmed the split ends without Die losing any noticeable length, he’d left it all feeling soft and natural, and the entire session had honestly taken much less time than his regular appointments with Miki.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Fine, then, Kyo was good at his job. That didn’t mean Die had to like him. He’d keep his appointment with him next month, but only until he found a better alternative.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die changed into sweats and a tank top, politely brushed off a new text from last week’s one-night-stand, and was about to settle down to watch the baseball game when his phone started vibrating, and he answered, somewhat reluctantly, the incoming call from Shinya.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hello, you’re not too busy to talk now, are you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Technically, Die wasn’t doing anything of any importance. He slumped on the couch. “No, I’m free, what’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, good,” Shinya said. “I’m just trying to get a few details worked out for our collaboration. Um, can you send me a list of all the brand names and products you’re going to be showing in the video? I want to make sure everything is credited properly, get links posted wherever possible…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right, yeah.” Die hadn’t spent nearly as much time preparing for this as he probably should have. “Look, I haven’t gotten a chance to pick out everything I’ll be using yet, so um. I’ll try to narrow it down and get that information to you as soon as I can.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya’s sigh across the line was the only real sign of his displeasure. “Of course, whenever you get a chance.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure thing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’re still on for next week? How’s Monday?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um, yeah,” Die said, mentally running through the next week’s schedule. “Monday should be perfect.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’ll be ready? Did you manage to get your hair taken care of?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There it was. Die had known Shinya would ask, he just had to make sure he didn’t say anything <em>strong</em>, anything that would give him the wrong idea. “Yeah, I went today. It was fine.” Die winced once it was out of his mouth. He’d probably taken it so far in in the other direction that it it would still arouse Shinya’s suspicion.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sure enough, “Just ‘fine’? Did you have Kyo?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, he did a great job,” Die said. “Actually, hah, it was funny, when I got there, I thought at first this other guy was Kyo, tried to introduce myself and everything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, who was that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I didn’t get his name,” Die said. “But he was pretty cute.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "You cleared it up though?” Shinya asked. “Did you tell Kyo I had recommended him to you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I, uh, I think I mentioned it, yeah,” Die said vaguely, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, he said he respects you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Aw, that’s nice of him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure, very… nice,” Die said. He couldn’t really imagine what Shinya would like about Kyo, or what would make him think that Die would like him too, but if it was all some practical joke, it seemed like Shinya was gonna see it through.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And it’s good enough for your work? I know how you are about your hair.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah,” Die said, keenly aware of his overuse of the word. “I mean, yes, it looks good. I’m happy with it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That seemed to please Shinya, and they went back to hammering out details of shooting the video for his channel until finally Shinya was satisfied enough to hang up, saying he needed to work on some editing for another video anyway.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die went ahead while he was still thinking about it and pulled out his extensive collection of hair and cosmetic products to pick out the ones he wanted to use for Shinya’s show.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “My daily routine,” he muttered to himself, as he tried not so successfully to pare it down to a number of items that seemed halfway reasonable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was sure he hadn’t always been this way. There must’ve been a time in the distant past when he could have left the house without any makeup at all, but now he was trying to choose between half a dozen products he might use just to cover the dark circles under his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There had also been a time when he’d thought hair and makeup was fun—a form of expression, a way to be creative. Occasionally he still got to experience that at some photoshoot, but it was never his own vision. He was just a canvas and he had little say in how he was decorated.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sighed, picking up a couple of creams and dropping them back into the basket of things he wouldn’t be showing. He knew he couldn’t really complain. He was incredibly lucky; he got to live a life of luxury, and maybe he didn’t have as much fun with makeup these days, but that was because he always had a team to do it for him, and he couldn’t pretend that wasn’t magical in its own way. He always got to go out in front of the camera looking amazing, and he got paid for just that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe that was the only real problem. Dressing up and looking pretty had been fun before it was his full-time job. Now it was an expectation that he look good, no matter where he went or what he was doing. There were so <em>damn many</em> expectations. People were counting on him to provide perfection, everything had a standard process, the way it had to go, and Die, much as he <em>wanted</em> to think of himself as an artist of sorts, had very little input with regard to what he did or how he presented it, most of the time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was part of why he was so looking forward to making the video with Shinya. He would get to be himself, without a team of stylists and artistic directors telling him what that should look like—and even then, he’d had to jump through a ton of hoops just to get management to agree to let him do it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Now that everything was in the works, Die was determined not to let Shinya down. He always asked for so little from Die, despite their being friends for so many years. Die wanted to give him more, but he always had to fight even to get Shinya to let him pay for lunch when they dined together.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he finally got his products narrowed down to a volume that seemed feasible to present, he snapped photos of everything and sent them to Shinya along with any information he had about the company, retailers, price, etc.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In doing so, he also saw that he had a notification for a new email from his agent, informing him that he had a new shoot scheduled a couple weeks out, something “a little more high-fashion.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die replied to the message in the affirmative and added the shoot to his calendar. It wasn’t until after his video with Shinya, so he wouldn’t be giving it his full attention just yet, but at least it was something to look forward to.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> High fashion was always more fun than commercial work, as far as Die was concerned. Commercial stuff was pretty easy, and it paid well, but it was more artistically rewarding to do some of the weird shit they asked for in fashion shoots.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He reread the email, trying to decide if he recognized the name of the photographer. He’d worked with so many people in the business that it was hard to keep track of all the names, but this one didn’t ring any bells. No surname, just Kaoru.<em> Kaoru</em>… A female photographer, perhaps? That was always sort of refreshing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Another email, from his manager, reminded him about the upcoming Spring Style Gala at which he was expected to make an appearance. It was yet another one of those gaudy, over-the-top parties that Die got nothing out of, but he knew there was no chance of weaseling his way out of it, so he made note of when he was supposed to meet with his stylists and wondered whether he could convince Shinya to come as his guest.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Putting aside the matters from his inbox for the time being, Die finished getting everything together that he’d need for Shinya’s video, spending a truly unhealthy amount of time in his own closet, digging through his clothes for anything suitable to wear for it. By the time he was finished, he didn’t feel much like watching baseball anymore.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He went back to staring at himself in the mirror, pulling and stretching at the skin on his face, practicing his most “natural” smile. If nothing else, he wanted to do Shinya the favor of boosting his channel, and his smiling, made-up face was the best instrument he had for that. So he practiced, and he hoped that Shinya would notice the effort he’d put in.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Checking in, everyone doin' okay? Here it's been raining for days. I love the rain, but I can't go out in it 'cause we're all stuck inside. It's still nice to hear it as I'm falling asleep though...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kyo had been doodling on the back of his left hand with a sharpie for the past twenty minutes when a balled-up piece of paper hit the side of his head and he looked up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You might wanna start getting your station ready for your next client,” Toshiya said, leaning on his elbows as he looked over from the front counter. “Half an hour.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “It’s ready.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It had been a slow couple weeks, and due to an earlier cancellation, today was no different. If Kyo hadn’t had this last appointment on the schedule he would have happily returned home and taken a nap. He always slept better during the day than he did at night.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not tidy,” Toshiya argued. He pointed to the floor near Kyo’s chair. “There’s a piece of trash right there by your feet.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo bent to pick up the paper Toshiya had thrown at him, half expecting there to be some cheesy fourth grade note written on it, but it was just a crumpled-up flyer for some themed night at a nearby club.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya noticed him inspecting it. “You wanna go check it out? I don’t have any plans this weekend.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo scoffed. “Definitely not.” He balled the paper up again, and threw it easily into the trash can next to his work station.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe in a different life, one five-to-ten years earlier, Kyo would have thought a night out at a club sounded like a fine—if not particularly <em>exciting</em>—way to spend an evening. Not that he’d ever been one to jump at such an opportunity, but he’d have accepted the invitation without objection.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t something he felt the need to do anymore.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We should go out somewhere sometime, though,” Toshiya said. “When’s the last time we went and let loose? I’ve been such a homebody lately, it’s driving me nuts.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I prefer my body to be at home,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He didn't have a problem with spending time with Toshiya socially. He liked him well enough and usually enjoyed his company, but, as with most people, he found him more tolerable in small doses and small groups. “<em>Going out</em>” tended to imply a lot of people in acrowded space, and in this part of his life, it wasn’t the kind of environment that appealed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He did feel a little bad though, shutting Toshiya down like that. At some point he would probably have to relent and hang out with him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo got up and made sure he had everything he would need for his next client. He couldn’t be bothered to confirm with Toshiya what type of appointment it was, so he just prepared for anything, and was pleasantly surprised when the person who showed up was one of his regulars: Shinya.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you do all this tidying up just for my sake?” Shinya said with a raised eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I didn’t know it was you coming. Most new clients they try to tell me to make a good first impression,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “As long as you didn’t go out of your way on my account.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And although Kyo liked Shinya, it was true that he probably wouldn’t have taken the trouble if he’d known to expect him. The salon’s owners had been breathing down his neck more often for how he presented his workspace to the customers, but they’d been pretty transparent about valuing potential, <em>new</em> clients more than those who had been regulars for years. It didn’t make any sense to Kyo, but he tried to steer clear of a confrontation with them over things that didn’t matter.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Straightening his glasses on his nose, Kyo relaxed into routine. Appointments with Shinya were always simple, straightforward, and Kyo fell into action, comfortably working on Shinya’s hair as he normally did. There was minimal conversation necessary, which was the way that Kyo liked it. Shinya was decisive about what he wanted done with his hair, and didn’t need to comment on much else.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> On occasions where he did speak up to ask Kyo something about himself, it was never invasive or irritating, so Kyo didn’t even tense up when, as he was drying his hair, Shinya asked, “Do you ever do makeup, too, or only hair?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I mess around with makeup, too, sometimes,” Kyo said as he set the hairdryer aside. “I don’t do it professionally as often, but I enjoy it as an art form. Why do you ask?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya shrugged. “I got the vibe that you might be into things like that. Maybe your tattoos, your attention to detail.” He gestured to Kyo’s left hand. “Is that a new one?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo glanced at it and laughed. “That’s just Sharpie.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh! Your own work?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Unn. Nothing special. I just had a slow afternoon.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “See, that’s the kind of thing I mean. Your artistry made me think you might do makeup as well,” Shinya said. “I have a new video going up today that talks about makeup to some extent.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah?” Kyo looked in the mirror, adjusted a few of Shinya’s hairs that had gotten out of place. He knew that Shinya had some kind of YouTube channel; it had come up before. He’d even watched a couple of his videos in the past. They were usually cute, charming things about Shinya trying new things, always taking them on very seriously with his characteristic decorum. He liked one he’d seen where Shinya was digging around in a park looking for ants, but for the most part the videos’ subjects weren’t of any great interest to him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I had a guest on, talking about some different products, giving tips,” Shinya said. “It’s more everyday stuff, so it might not be the kind of makeup you have fun with.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That could still be interesting,” Kyo said. “I’ll be sure to check it out.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They returned to a companionable silence as Kyo made any finishing touches to the styling of Shinya’s hair, and then Shinya had him take an obligatory photo of the result for Instagram. Kyo sent him off to finish any business with Toshiya at the counter and cleaned up his work area for the evening, already looking forward to getting home and putting all his appointments out of mind.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was pretty good at that. Leaving his work at work had definitely been a skill he'd had to acquire, but these days he generally had no trouble at all forgetting everything and everyone from the salon the moment he walked out the door. The city air was cleansing, and undoubtedly, his mental health was dramatically improved by the technique.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Once he was home, Kyo was home. There was no scheduled reason for him to head out again, and he took advantage of the time, spending it the way <em>he </em>wanted to. He had a relaxing bath, ate a quick and easy dinner, and spent an hour or two playing video games, lounging lazily on the little couch in his cramped living room. It took a venture into dicking around with the character customization options on his game for him to remember there was something Shinya had recommended to him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Not trusting himself to remember it again at a better time, he paused his game, and dug his phone out right then and there, leaning back against one arm of the couch with one foot up on the cushions.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was easy to find Shinya’s channel, and Kyo clicked on the newest video without really looking at it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Not until Shinya introduced his guest did Kyo actually take notice. It was Die. That prick whose hair he’d cut a couple weeks ago, there on his screen with the very hair that Kyo had styled. Kyo couldn’t help but pat himself on the back as he found both Die and Shinya’s hair looked excellent. He was surprised when they called attention to it, too, and actually gave Kyo a shoutout, mentioning him and the salon by name as the source of their well-maintained hair. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Damn straight.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die smiled almost shyly for the camera, and Kyo didn’t bother paying attention to whatever he and Shinya were saying about his model work; he was more interested in the way Die’s hair caught the light as he flipped it over his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nevertheless, he did listen a bit more closely as Die started describing his personal beauty regimen, holding up each product as he introduced it. Kyo wouldn’t deny that he’d been curious how Die kept his hair so soft, and was grateful for the explanation.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At the same time, he found he disagreed with several of Die’s makeup recommendations, particularly one he recognized as being from a company that had had an animal testing scandal not long ago.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo paused the video long enough to rifle through his end table drawer for the small notepad and pen he kept there (for emergency situations), and flipped to a blank page so he could make some notes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The notes were an assortment of positive and negative; reminders to look into products that appealed to him, and criticisms of ones he already knew he didn’t like. They were intended mostly as a reminder for himself, but he supposed he could also pass them along to Shinya, should he be interested in his feedback.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> None of it was really the kind of makeup that excited Kyo, which was as Shinya had predicted, but Kyo had to admit he kind of enjoyed watching it anyway. Discovering new items was always fun, and documenting his own disapproval of something brought him a sense of gratification as well. That wasn’t necessarily a good or healthy thing, but he wouldn’t include this strategy in the self-help book he wouldn’t write.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was strange to see Die in that context, alongside Shinya, of whom Kyo felt so much more tolerant. Several times during the video, Die giggled, that same awkward and undignified sound that Kyo dimly recalled having heard the day of Die’s appointment, when he’d first arrived speaking on the phone. It appeared he was better mannered in Shinya’s company than in Kyo’s own, which could hardly be held against him. Kyo knew he didn’t often inspire the best in people.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he finished watching the video, Kyo went back and watched the whole thing one more time, <em>watching</em> more than taking notes this time through. He still couldn’t believe Die was vouching for some of these absurdly overpriced products when he knew of lesser brands whose equivalent items worked just as well, and he considered leaving a scathing youtube comment, but in the end, figured he could inform Shinya of his thoughts just as easily without embarrassing him in a public internet forum.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The video ended a second time, and he put his phone and notes off to the side. With an easy shift of mental gears, he returned to the game he’d left paused on his TV for the past half hour, and finished out his night on a relaxed, but high, note.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The morning was brisk as Die arrived for his photoshoot with the mysterious photographer whom he’d never met. He didn’t totally know what to expect, but the wind was whipping around his face so harshly that he was relieved to find it was an indoor shoot. Once he slipped in through the heavy wooden door of the building, he was quickly ushered off to hair and makeup.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d hoped to meet the photographer before getting into the makeup chair, but some of the things they needed to apply were a bit complicated and time-intensive, and it was necessary to get started on them right away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Usually, Die kind of liked being sat down in the chair and worked on, but it was ever so slightly disappointing this time. The head stylist was friendly and polite enough, but she seemed sort of distracted, and didn’t make a point to really talk with Die. While he could understand that she was busy and under some stress, it was a little dehumanizing to be made-up and not spoken to, and without conversation, there was nothing to take his mind off any lingering anxiety about the shoot.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> On top of that, there was some issue with the false eyelashes, so the ones on his right eye weren’t sticking properly. It was just a typical, run-of-the-mill problem, but it meant Die was late getting to wardrobe, and everyone was impatient, in a rush to get him in front of the camera.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> By the time he stumbled out onto the sound stage fully styled, he was kind of disoriented and confused, and, not having been introduced to the photographer beforehand, he wasn’t sure whom he was meant to approach.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was solved for him quickly enough as a man around his age, smoking a cigarette and wearing almost comically large glasses, came up to him and bowed in greeting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “They finally clear you to start?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die bowed back, a touch awkwardly. “Yes, I’m, ah, dressed.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Clearly.” The man rubbed at his chin as he considered him, then straightened up. “We haven’t met before, I’m Kaoru, I’m going to be shooting you today.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh!” A <em>male</em> Kaoru. Okay, then, not unheard-of. “I’m sorry, nice to meet you. I’m Die. That’s probably obvious.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course I’ve seen you before,” Kaoru said. "I was just watching that video from—I guess he's a friend of yours, the vlogger?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Shinya, yes, he's an old friend," Die said. He hoped any embarrassment wasn't as easy to see with how he was styled. "You... watched the video, huh?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I thought it was charming. Very funny. I'm sure Shinya appreciates the boost your status will likely give his channel."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It should be mutually beneficial," Die said, nodding. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He knew that was part of the whole reason they'd wanted to do it. To be honest, though, he hadn't been able to bring himself to watch it, yet. The process of filming it had been something of a blur, and he'd felt so inadequate as he'd sat there, talking about a beauty regimen that surely mattered to no one watching. Luckily, it being Shinya's channel, he'd been the one to take the lead. Die was sure the majority of his awkwardness had ended up on the cutting room floor, but he still dreaded seeing the finished product, knowing for certain just how much of a fool he'd made of himself. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You know, I've thought about doing that myself," Kaoru said, with a half smile. "Starting a YouTube channel, I mean."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">That was hard for Die to picture, though admittedly he didn't know much about Kaoru as a person. "Really?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kaoru shrugged. "It wouldn't be as much fun as your friend's, I guess. I'd probably use it more as a platform to discuss current events, the media, the art world. What do you think, would that be a hit?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'm... I'm sure it's worth a shot," Die said, uncertainly, "if you really want to try it."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"It does sound like a lot of work, though, doesn't it?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"More than you'd expect," Die agreed. "Shinya's channel keeps him pretty busy." Really, Die thought he ought to watch the video, if only as a show of support for Shinya's efforts. It would go on his to-do list, once this shoot was over. And he'd be sure to make a nice social media post hyping it afterwards.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Well, someday maybe I'll look into it," Kaoru said. "If it's even still popular by then." He gestured with his cigarette for Die to walk with him across the space, towards were most of the equipment was set up. “Meanwhile, I'm really looking forward to seeing you in action today. I requested you specifically for this shoot, based on your work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you very much, that’s lovely to hear.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru gave him a funny look then and chuckled. “You don’t have to be so stiff, we’re going to take some pictures and make some art. Please, feel free to loosen up.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was sort of strange to hear in a professional setting, especially when Kaoru himself seemed… not uptight, but less than relaxed. At the same time, though, his clear laid-back attitude made Die feel comfortable, and he was inclined to like him even based on their brief exchange.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> From there, Kaoru got him into position, gave him a few things to keep in mind, and they were able to get started. Rushed and stressful as the styling process had been, Kaoru was patient, focused, putting a lot of thought into the shots he wanted and how to get them. He seemed very in-tune with his assistants and technicians, communicating clearly when he wanted lighting or set pieces adjusted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The only area where Kaoru was expressing some displeasure was with how Die himself looked. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not <em>you</em> that I’m unhappy with,” Kaoru said, his tone not altogether reassuring. It was the fifth time they’d paused so one of the makeup assistants could hurry over and touch up Die’s face. Someone else was messing with his hair, and there was a general atmosphere of worry that his eyelashes would fall off again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There wasn’t much Die could offer as a response. It was all a fairly standard part of the photoshoot process—though he had to admit there usually weren’t <em>quite</em> this many minor setbacks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was sent back to wardrobe to change for the next portion of the shoot, and his second outfit was, unfortunately, more difficult to work with. There was a hooded part that he was supposed to keep on, but with how his hair had been styled, it wasn’t staying put even when it was pinned, and Die as having a hard time getting a variety of poses without damaging the effect of the clothes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After only a few minutes in the new outfit, Kaoru was calling for them to stop, visibly irritated.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What the hell is going on with this hood?” he demanded. “Can we get someone out here doing their job?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die winced. He wasn’t accustomed to struggling so much with his wardrobe, and he was acutely aware of how his issues were slowing down the whole operation. He hated to think that Kaoru would be getting an unfavorable impression of him, probably thinking he was unprofessional, or couldn’t work under the regular pressures of the industry.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This isn’t fucking working,” Kaoru muttered, then louder, “Everyone take ten.” He pointed at Die. “Except you. Come with me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die followed without argument, but not without trepidation. He braced himself for the talking-to he was about to get.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d ever been told off at a shoot; of course some photographers were just assholes, as people were in any profession. It just sucked because Die had rather liked Kaoru, not gotten that dickhead-photographer vibe from him at all, and he was truly sorry to disappoint him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru led them all the way outside, to the secluded parking lot behind the building, and Die was fully prepared for the formal apology he’d have to make, already poised to kneel on the ground when Kaoru cut him off by starting to talk.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The shoot is not going the way I’d like it to.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was such an understated manner of expressing his displeasure that Die was taken aback. Was he not going to be yelled at?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t blame you,” Kaoru said next, surprising Die further. He took out a cigarette and lit it. He offered one to Die, too, but he politely declined. “It’s not your fault, and I can see your frustration, so I wanted to reassure you that if I’m pissed, it’s not at you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh,” Die said. He wasn’t used to the people with whom he worked being so reasonable. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru waved a hand. “I’m about to fire that stylist’s ass though.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’d like to work with you again,” Kaoru said, and blew out a mouthful of smoke. “Today’s conditions haven’t been ideal, but I feel as intrigued by your modeling abilities as ever, and I’d love to plan for another shoot with you in the near future.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’d like that a lot,” Die said honestly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’ll just have to find a different stylist, who won’t fuck it up,” Kaoru said, looking Die up and down. “Hard to mess up your hair, but seriously, what the hell is the deal with these eyelashes?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die laughed in spite of himself. “I’ve never had so much difficulty with my eyelashes before.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Neither have I,” Kaoru said, shaking his head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die peered at him. Kaoru actually had incredible bone structure, very striking and attractive, if somewhat unconventional. “Have you had some experience on the modeling side of things, too?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t too personal a question.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru made a face, waved his cigarette around vaguely. “One or two gigs, back when I was just starting out. It was okay to do sort of casually, but I would tense up in front of the camera. Much more comfortable telling others what to do without the pressure of being seen.” He laughed, and it was warm and pleasant.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For a minute, Kaoru just smoked, squinted thoughtfully into the distance, and neither of them said anything. It could have been awkward, but it wasn’t really. Die thought if he had more reliable and consistent friends, he’d like Kaoru to be one of them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We should go back in a bit,” Kaoru said. “But I’m completely serious about working together again. Do you have anyone that comes to mind who you’d like to work with for a shoot, hair or makeup artists?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die ran mentally through the hair and makeup teams he worked with most often. Most of them were decent, worlds better than whatever had happened today—and then like a brick flung through the window of his mind, Die thought of <em>one</em> artist, with whom he had very little experience, and whom he possibly didn’t even like: Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You have a look,” Kaoru observed. “Thinking of someone?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I…” Die hesitated. He didn’t <em>want</em> to think of Kyo. He had no information to suggest that such a job would be within Kyo’s skillset. And he didn’t <em>want</em> to work with him. But he couldn’t deny that Kyo was <em>good</em> when it came to doing hair…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, whoever it is,” Kaoru said, checking the time on his phone, “you’ll have to introduce me, get me their contact info… I trust anyone you like a hell of a lot more than what my job listing and interview process got me today.” He disposed of the remainder of his cigarette and held the door so they could go back inside.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The rest of the photoshoot was not drastically different. There were no disasters, but Kaoru’s dissatisfaction was still easily felt, and the atmosphere was tense and uncomfortable. Die was relieved when, two costume changes later, Kaoru called it a wrap and let everyone set to dismantling the equipment. He sought Die out before he left and gave him a card with his email and phone number.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll be in touch about a future shoot,” he said. “But feel free to reach out if you have questions, or if you have someone in mind you’d like to work with. I appreciate your taking the time to consider it. And thank you for your work today, I really thought you were great.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you,” Die said, and bowed. “I enjoyed working with you as well. Even with all the difficulties.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru’s mouth twisted sideways. “I hope the experience wasn’t too terrible a first impression. I’ll see you again soon.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shook his head. “Not a bad impression at all. I’ll see you.” He waved as Kaoru went on his way, and finished cleaning his face of any leftover makeup.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The card lay on the counter in front of him as he applied moisturizer to counteract the way the adhesive and heavy makeup dried out his skin, and he looked at the small, lazy scrawl of Kaoru’s cell phone number, added at the bottom, under the printed information.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He probably wouldn’t be reaching out to him any time soon. It was likely that they would run into each other at some industry function before he even had the chance. After all, he didn’t have Kyo’s contact information, and while he could probably show up at the salon and try to speak with him…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shook his head, dismissing the thought. He didn’t even know that he really wanted to try to recruit Kyo for this job. He’d only met him the one time, and if one wanted to talk about bad first impressions, that was a place to start.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t that urgent. From what Kaoru had said, he had no dates for this future photoshoot, nothing set in stone. Die had time to think about it, to think if he really wanted to involve Kyo, or to see if he could find someone more suitable. It was weeks until his next hair appointment with him, and he would be able to determine his best course of action before then.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love you all, hope everyone's getting through the week okay~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The week had picked up, an influx of new customers appearing out of nowhere, and while Kyo didn’t know why the hell they were all there, he tried to view it as a good thing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After all, he couldn’t complain about an increase in business, and the other salon employees were grateful that they got more work, too. However, as it was a bit busier than Kyo was used to, he no longer had extensive periods of free time between appointments, where he could sketch or write. It was always one client after another, new people, who didn’t know better than to strike up a conversation with him. He made sure to put a stop to that the moment they started.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It took some adjustment, but Kyo gradually accepted the fact that he was going to be getting a little less sleep, and came into work with the same attitude he’d always had.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That didn’t mean he expected Toshiya to all but leap at him the moment he walked into the salon, the hour still too early for Kyo to want contact with other humans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’ll never believe it!” Toshiya said, his hands stopping mere centimeters from grabbing Kyo like he’d clearly planned to. “I was on YouTube, and I saw Shinya’s channel—he’s so popular, I had no idea!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged, sipped his coffee. “Yeah, I know about Shinya’s YouTube channel.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, but I actually watched the <em>video </em>where he shouted us out!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I did, too,” Kyo said, covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he yawned.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It wasn’t just Shinya mentioning us,” Toshiya continued giddily. “It was <em>Die</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded. “Yeah, I know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The corners of Toshiya’s mouth turned down. “You watched it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded again. He leaned on Toshiya’s counter, deciding this was probably going to be a longer chat than he really wanted. “Shinya recommended it to me last time he was here, ‘cause of my interest in makeup.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And? What did you think?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I actually had a lot of thoughts,” Kyo said. “For one thing, I don’t see how any one can hype products from SERAPHIM after all those articles came out about their testing practices—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not about the <em>makeup</em>,” Toshiya said impatiently. “About <em>Die</em>! I couldn’t believe he was a guest on Shinya’s channel!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo tried not to sigh. He supposed he should have expected that was the part of the video that Toshiya would fixate on, but it still wasn’t what he wanted to talk about. “I… appreciated that he mentioned the salon by name. I always like getting credit for my work.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you like seeing him in the video?” Toshiya pressed. “He looked fantastic. And Jesus, that <em>smile</em>!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “His hair looked great,” Kyo said. “It was nice to hear something about what he uses on it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Kyo</em>,” Toshiya said with a frustration that Kyo couldn’t understand, “you’re missing the <em>point</em>. I want to know what you <em>thought</em>—what you <em>felt</em>—when you saw him as a guest. Were you surprised? Excited?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s jaw worked back and forth, his own frustration steadily growing. “I felt. Proud, that his hair looked so good on camera. It was weird to see him hanging out with Shinya.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya made another impatient noise, and Kyo cut him off before he could say more.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know what fucking answer you’re digging for, and I’m sorry to disappoint you, but that’s pretty much the extent of my reaction to Die in the stupid video. If you have something more specific you wanna say about it, come find me when I’m less pissed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With that, he stormed off to his haircutting station, relieved that Toshiya didn’t try to chase after him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t mean to take out his anger on Toshiya. He <em>was</em> angry with him, but he didn’t fully blame him for it. It was in Toshiya’s nature to push things a little bit too far, to keep talking when he should have stopped a while ago, and Kyo always tried not to hold those tendencies against him. He just hated how the things Toshiya said got to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> How did he <em>feel</em> when he saw Die in Shinya’s video? No matter how much he wracked his brain for something more, all he remembered feeling was recognition. Acknowledgment. <em>Oh, hey, it’s that guy</em>. Maybe a vague dislike, but it was vague enough that it wasn’t worth clinging to. Why weren’t his answers good enough for Toshiya? What was he <em>supposed</em> to feel?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> This was exactly why he was pissed. Generally speaking, Kyo knew there was nothing wrong with him, that he wasn’t defective and in need of “repairs,” but when someone interrogated him like that, rejected his natural responses and tried to find him other ones, it felt like… he was wrong. He was <em>incorrect</em> for what he thought and felt, and no one would believe him, try as he might to explain himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo let out a calming breath, hoping to keep the bad taste of the conversation from lingering too much in his mouth and his mind. He had a full schedule of annoying new clients, and he had to get through the day with some shred of sanity intact.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He focused on the work, stayed silent as much as he could get away with. He found some peace and contentment in styling hair or else he probably wouldn’t have done it as a career. He liked how he didn’t have to look so much at people’s faces, that he had a chance to control and improve the aesthetic that was set before him. He liked that no one really watched him as he worked. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was late afternoon when Toshiya came sheepishly over to Kyo, keeping his distance until Kyo glanced up at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What can I do for you?” Kyo asked.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your last appointment of the day’s a late cancel,” Toshiya said quietly. “So, you’re done as soon as you finish cleaning up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Great,” Kyo said as he went on sweeping around his chair. “Thanks for the info.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And—And I’m really sorry,” Toshiya added. “About earlier. I was being—I don’t know why I was acting like that. I should have thought about how it would sound to you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo pursed his lips and nodded. He was glad Toshiya was apologizing, but he also felt kind of bad himself, for how he’d snapped at him. He really hadn’t meant to make Toshiya all guilty and uncomfortable.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can I make it up to you?” Toshiya said. “I—I was thinking about what you said, how the video appealed to you because of the makeup and the hair, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo eyed him warily. “Right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, I—I was able to get tickets to this gala thing,” Toshiya said. “Actually, Masaki got them, you know, his connections—but he was gonna be out of town visiting family, so he gave them to me.” He rubbed at the back fo his neck. “It’s just a big fancy party celebrating achievements in styling, and I thought—Well, maybe it would be up your alley.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t answer right away. He hated the idea of a “big fancy party,” but the <em>subject</em> did interest him. He wondered if there would be a gallery of work he could admire. The food at something like that would probably be good, too. “You already have the tickets?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya nodded eagerly. “And—But you definitely don’t have to go if it’s not something you’re into, you’re just the first person I thought of…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was being sweet, and Kyo’s instinct was to acknowledge that, especially after how he’d bitten his head off earlier. Plus he had already been intending to accept an invitation from Toshiya to hang out at one point or another.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo emptied his dustpan into the appointed bin, and came back to stand in front of Toshiya. “All right, let’s go together.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya’s face lit up. “Really?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure,” Kyo said. “It sounds interesting. Thanks for thinking of me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya was beaming. Once more he narrowly avoided throwing his arms around Kyo, and then bounced back to the front counter, chattering mostly to himself about what a good time they would have.</span>
</p><p class="p2">
  <br/>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As Kyo dressed for the event that Saturday evening, he refused to let himself regret agreeing to it. Granted, it was likely to be underwhelming, and he’d want to go home after only a short while, but he so rarely spent time with Toshiya socially, even though he was one of his only good friends. He’d already shut down Toshiya’s efforts to make it into a bigger thing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We can get ready together, maybe have a couple of drinks before we get going,” Toshiya had suggested, perhaps lost in some fantasy and having missed his big high school dance, but Kyo had stood firm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll go to the gala, but I think that’ll be quite enough for me,” he’d said. “No offense, but I’m pretty sure I can dress myself without your help.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya had looked like he wanted to respond to that, but he’d shut his mouth again and let the matter go.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That really wasn’t the difficult part of going out, though, as far as Kyo was concerned. It was fun to dress up. And since it was a ticketed gala event, he figured he was allowed to be sort of overly formal, and ended up dressing in tails, with a bright, patterned vest. He wore his contact lenses, left his makeup understated, and made sure his fading dyed hair was styled away from his face. He was going for elegant more than grunge; if it was something Toshiya was excited about, he didn’t want to be hearing all evening how he was embarrassing him with his style choices.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was just finally satisfied with his appearance when Toshiya texted to say he was almost there to pick him up. They were sharing a cab to the gala, and Kyo hurried down to meet them, so the taxi wouldn’t have to wait for him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The car pulled up a minute later, and Toshiya was grinning wildly as Kyo slid into the backseat beside him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You look great! What the hell, you just have that kind of outfit lying around?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You never know when you might need it,” Kyo said. He glanced at Toshiya’s ensemble. It was more modern, but he still looked incredibly sharp in tight slacks, a dressy shirt and tie, and a well-fitting blazer. “You look nice, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks!” Toshiya said, clearly pleased with himself. “It’s fun to have an occasion to look nice.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Who needs an occasion? I think it’d be awesome if you started dressing like this at the salon.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It would change the whole atmosphere, wouldn’t it?” Toshiya said. “Boost the classiness of the joint.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm, but you make it too classy, then maybe I won’t fit in there anymore.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya gave him a look. “Do you really think you fit in now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo laughed, and Toshiya did, too, but it seemed a little forced.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, you know,” Toshiya said, and turned to look out the window. “We’d never get away with making some fun change to the salon under its current tyrannical rule.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, yeah,” Kyo replied awkwardly. He knew that as the receptionist Toshiya bore the brunt of the owners’ wrath whenever there was a problem at the salon, and he knew, too, that Toshiya had been even unhappier with them than usual recently. What he didn’t know was how he was supposed to help. “Maybe—They must be happy about the extra business we've been getting recently, yeah?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya made a dubious noise. “It probably just gives them an excuse to watch us more closely. I wish they’d just fucking sell the place and get it over with."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?” Kyo hadn’t heard anything about that possibility. “Wait, are they really gonna sell the salon?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya glanced at him guiltily, then looked back out the window. “It’s just a rumor. I’d say I’m surprised you haven’t heard, but I guess you never listen much.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I listen,” Kyo said. “But if it’s just gossip…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure, just gossip,” Toshiya said. “I wouldn’t worry about it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo found it difficult to completely stop worrying about the sudden revelation that he could soon be jobless, but it was obvious that Toshiya didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He changed the subject. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You know, I might start a few rumors myself after tonight, about us crashing this fancy party, having to get thrown out after some extreme shenanigans.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya turned towards him, clearly torn between alarm and amusement. “Did you just say shenanigans?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo tugged at the little loop through his left ear thoughtfully. “I wonder what I should tell everyone you did to get security brought down on us…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why would it be something <em>I</em> did!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No one would believe it was me,” Kyo said. “I’m renowned for never making trouble and being insanely easy to get along with.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya laughed, properly this time, and shoved him. Kyo took it as a positive sign for the mood of their evening.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> An hour later, they had gotten comfortable puttering around at the event, and no shenanigans had occurred thus far. There had been no trouble with getting in with their tickets, and there was a lot for them to wander around admiring. Kyo was a little anxious, being somewhere with so damn many people, but he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying seeing some of the looks that were being sported, and he really was grateful to Toshiya for inviting him along.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you see that guy with the hair?” Toshiya whispered as he returned from going off to find drinks for both of them. He thrust a glass of champagne into Kyo’s hand, his eyes darting around the hall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Which guy with which hair?” Kyo asked, looking down at the champagne with ill-concealed chagrin.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Pink hair, spiked up in like fifty directions,” Toshiya said. “But it didn’t look bad! It was actually badass, he looked like an anime character—only way better than they ever look in the shitty live-action adaptations.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo craned his neck, trying to see through the crowd. He was lacking Toshiya’s height, and found it rather more difficult to follow any one specific person through the throngs, but it seemed like the hair Toshiya was describing should be easy enough to spot.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Which way did you see him going, exactly?” Kyo pushed up onto his tiptoes, looked in the other direction, more towards the entrance of the hall.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Closer to the bar,” Toshiya said, nudging him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo turned again, caught a flash of brightly-dyed hair, and tried to focus on it. “Wait, I think I see—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then the crowds parted just enough for him to make out the figure he’d caught sight of, and it was absolutely not who Toshiya had pointed out to him. This person’s hair was long, flowing down his back in mermaid-esque waves, a striking red.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even from across the hall, teeming with people, there was no mistaking him: Kyo was staring right at Die</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Geez, can y'all believe it's already Friday again? Wow. This chapter's a little chaotic whoops</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"There sure are a lot of people here,” Shinya said, his voice pitched low. “Do you know many of them?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… have <em>met</em> many of them,” Die said, and sipped his drink. It was already his third of the night, but he felt confident that Shinya would keep an eye on him, and, sue him, he didn't always have the best methods for managing his anxiety in overly-crowded places.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was part of why he’d brought Shinya along as his plus-one in the first place. Industry events always stressed Die out, even when there weren’t significant obligations for him there. He was attending this gala, but at least he wasn’t presenting any awards, wasn’t having any important meetings with designers, photographers, or sponsors. Technically, he could be having a good time, because the stress was low.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die-san, is that you?” A tall, slim woman whom Die vaguely recognized, though he couldn’t put a name to her smiling face, was approaching him, her gold gown shimmering with her movements.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey, long time no see!” Die said enthusiastically. He may not have known when the last time he’d seen her had been, but he didn’t let that show, as he pasted on his award-winning smile, and pulled Shinya forward by his elbow. “ I don’t think you’ve met my friend, this is Shinya!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The woman looked Shinya up and down curiously. "It's a pleasure to meet you,” she said, and bowed. “I’m Takagawa Mizue. Die-san and I worked together last year for a perfume ad, and I just <em>adore</em> him."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die schooled his face as he let her introduction jog his memory as to who she was. He did a lot of ads and commercials with a lot of models and actresses, but he remembered now the shoot he’d done with her. It had been rather <em>intimate</em>, and he’d had to let her down gently when she’d boldly suggested they get coffee afterwards.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, I’m afraid you must not know him as well as I do if you still adore him,” Shinya said drily.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Mizue laughed. “I take it you’ve known him longer than I have.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Too long,” Shinya said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They chatted a while longer, and Die was glad for the opportunity to shove Shinya ahead of himself and not-so-subtly promote his channel. He was pretty sure Shinya didn’t mind either.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Eventually Mizue made her way back into the crowd with (presumably empty) promises to get in touch soon, and Die felt some tension go out of his shoulders as she walked away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, a perfume ad,” Shinya said, watching her retreat. “Was that one of those ‘sex sells’ type situations? I hope you weren’t fumbling for her name even after you’ve slept with her?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die turned to him with wide eyes. “Shinya! No!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is that unreasonable for me to wonder?” Shinya asked. “You can’t pretend you’re not one to mix business and pleasure.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, that’s true,” Die allowed, “but—it <em>was</em> that kind of photoshoot, but I didn’t—with her.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess she doesn’t seem quite like your type, does she?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not <em>gay</em>,” Die said defensively.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya gave him an unimpressed look. “All right. But you definitely have a preference for men.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die couldn’t argue with that. He wasn’t even sure why he felt defensive about it, except that it was frustrating when Shinya could so easily read him, without Die having said anything at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Putting aside that slight awkwardness, it wasn’t a bad party. There were things Die would have rather been doing, sure, but for the most part, it was an uneventful night out, nothing to write home about.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He had moved out of the heart of the sea of bodies, towards the edge of the space when he heard something that he thought could possibly make the evening a good deal more interesting: an argument.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At first, it was just a raised voice, but while Die couldn’t pinpoint exactly where it was coming from, he could make out some of the words.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Is that what this is? Some kind of setup?</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die scanned the area around him, trying not to be too obvious about it as he hunted for the the source of the words.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>I literally don’t know why I ever listened to you in the first place. You can’t expect me to believe you didn’t know—you knew that he would be here!</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die stood a little straighter, trying to use his height to his advantage. “<em>You knew that he would be her</em><em>e</em>”? This just got juicier. Whatever this tiff was would probably be in the next day’s tabloids, and Die was getting to witness the gossip firsthand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He tried to follow the voice, got closer. There was something somehow <em>familiar</em> about it, and Die was perhaps shamefully eager to see just which of the people he worked with was in the midst of calling out his wife on having an affair—and with whom?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was, after all, the story Die had decided made the most sense, based on the small pieces of the argument he had. It was surprising though, that that they’d hash it out in such a public place.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>No</em>,” the same voice continued, “<em>don’t give me that! This is the same fucking thing you always do, and I’m tired of your pushing!</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die frowned slightly, trying to interpret that. What could the other party be <em>pushing</em>?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He turned once more, looking over his shoulder, and that’s when he saw just who was arguing in the middle of this formal event; it was no colleague of his at all—it was <em>Kyo</em>, the smart-ass hairdresser he’d had his appointment with last month.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die froze with his mouth hanging open. He’d lost Shinya in the crowd, so much as he wanted to flail and point, there was no one there to appreciate his doing so.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo actually looked… good. Great? Maybe that was the wrong thing to focus on when he was standing there deeply engaged in some furious conflict with a tall man Die recognized as the receptionist from the hair salon. What the hell were they <em>doing</em> there?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was stuck trying to come up with any possible explanation for why Kyo and his salon colleague were at this event, and so it slid from his mind how far off-base he’d been with his understanding of their argument.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He also wasn’t prepared for how Kyo turned and looked <em>directly at him</em>, his eyes burning and his teeth bared. Die nearly jumped in surprise, though somehow Kyo didn’t seem all that shocked to see him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Why wasn’t he? Had he known Die was there? It wasn’t much of a stretch, considering Die’s career and status. Was it possible that Kyo had even <em>planned</em> to see Die at this gala?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe that was more out there. Die could think of no reason for Kyo to want to see him, no indication that seeking him out was something Kyo <em>would</em> do. If he hadn’t just shot him that murderous glare, Die didn’t know if he’d be 100% confident Kyo remembered who he was.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then again, Die couldn’t claim Kyo hadn’t been on <em>his</em> mind, from time to time. His next hair appointment with him wasn’t for another couple weeks, but he thought of Kyo nearly every time he received a compliment on his hair (which was seriously often). Perhaps Die hadn’t left quite the same impression on Kyo, but some bizarrely flickering feeling in Die’s stomach <em>hoped</em> that Kyo’s presence there might have something to do with him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Contrary to that hope, however, Kyo hadn’t come over to speak to Die, even after they’d made eye contact. In fact, he and his friend had moved their disagreement even closer to the wall, farther from the crowds of milling people.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Since Shinya wasn’t there to talk him out of it, Die felt he had no choice but to squeeze between some schmoozing partygoers and bring himself right to Kyo’s side.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey!” he said, loud enough that Kyo had to hear him. “Kyo, I thought that was you!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t turn his body fully towards him, just looked at him with narrowed eyes. “Hello, Die.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die grinned at the evidence that Kyo at least remembered his name. He turned his gaze to Kyo’s friend and extended a hand. “I know we’ve met before as well, but I’m sorry, could you remind me of your name?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He looked halfway between horrified and delighted as he shook Die’s hand. “Toshiya. Yeah, we—What a surprise, meeting you here!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Well, hmm, that settled that. They hadn’t expected to see Die there after all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, I was surprised to see you guys here, too,” Die said. A glance toward Kyo told him he was still glowering ceaselessly a his friend, Toshiya. Die wondered what it was that he was so upset with him about, but there was no way to ask. “Have you, um, gotten to look around at some of the displays?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya nodded. “Probably what Kyo was most interested in. You know, he’s big on all that kind of thing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, yeah?” Die tried again to smile at Kyo, but got no response.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Anyway,” Toshiya said, and cleared his throat. “We don’t want to keep you from… you must have people…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, not at all!” Die insisted. “I misplaced Shinya around here somewhere, but he can find me when he’s ready. I’m not really concerned with meeting anyone else here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As if the universe was determined to make him look like a fool and a liar, a hand came clapping down on Die’s shoulder just at that moment, startling him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Look at that, finally someone I’m happy to run into,” said a familiar voice, and Die turned to find Kaoru there next to him. “You enjoying the evening?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, hello!” Die said, turning to half-hug the photographer. Although he was sort of embarrassed by the interruption, he wasn’t displeased to see him. “I am, thanks, it’s a nice party. I didn’t know you were here!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru nodded, and mussed up his already fluffy hair. “I wasn’t sure I was going to make an appearance until the last minute. Easy to spot you in the crowd, though. You just stand out naturally, don’t you?” He smirked and his eyes finally fell on Kyo and Toshiya, and widened. “Ah, shit, I’m sorry, I’m intruding, aren’t I?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya hurriedly shook his head. “No, no—We were just saying hi, really, and then we were gonna head over—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “These are friends of yours?” Kaoru asked Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um. Yeah, kind of,” Die said. He held back a wince, and hoped that hadn’t sounded insanely rude. “They’re from—Actually.” He paused, realizing this was his opportunity to introduce Kyo to Kaoru. He hadn’t expected the chance to come so soon, but perhaps meeting Kyo here was some act of fate. “Kaoru, this is someone I want you to meet.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> All three other men looked at him in varying states of confusion.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die charged on, actually daring to tug Kyo forward and to rest a hand on his shoulder. “This is Kyo. He does my hair, and he’s the first person I thought of when you mentioned looking for a new stylist for another shoot together.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo flashed him a dirty look and jerked his shoulder away. To Kaoru he said, “Hello.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru’s eyebrows were still raised, but he bowed in greeting. “Kyo, eh? Well, Die’s hair does look flawless. It’s a pleasure to meet the person responsible for it.” He reached into a pocket inside his jacket and produced a business card. “I’d love to talk more, see some examples of your work. Please, contact me so we can work out details.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo stared at the card that was held out to him for such a long moment that Die was worried he wasn’t going to accept it at all. Then slowly, he took it and slid it into his pocket with a quiet, “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya was watching the whole exchange with some kind of nervous curiosity, and though Die felt bad for not making a point to introduce him as well, it seemed like Toshiya wasn’t too concerned with it himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru didn’t linger more than another minute, called off by some other attendees begging for his expertise.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die waved as he left, a little sorry to see him go so soon, but when he turned back to the others, Kyo had already taken off in another direction, and Toshiya was grimacing apologetically over his shoulder as he followed him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Puzzled, and perhaps offended, Die scrambled after them. He was slightly out of breath by the time he caught up to Kyo, who moved at an impressive pace, considering the comparatively short length of his strides.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Managing to step just in front of him, Die held up his arms in a gesture to stop Kyo’s escape. “Hold on!” he cried. “Where are you going? What’s the problem?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What the hell is wrong with you?” Kyo snapped. He reminded Die of a wild animal, feral and dangerous, and maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to stand directly in his way.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nonetheless, Die didn’t budge. “What do you <em>mean</em>, what’s wrong with me? You’re the one storming off without saying goodbye!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I’m not the one forcing you to meet random douchebags without so much as a warning,” Kyo countered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kaoru’s not—” Die stopped, straightened up, even more confused. “Wait, you’re pissed ‘cause I was getting you work…? I’m supposed to be sorry for recommending you for a job?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I <em>have</em> a job,” Kyo said. “I’m pissed because I don’t even fucking <em>know</em> you, and you put me on the spot in front of a stranger without even pausing to consider whether you should!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was taken aback. He’d never even imagined that Kyo might not <em>want</em> to work with him on a photoshoot. It wasn’t a possibility that had crossed his mind. “I… I didn’t think—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, you didn’t, and I’m really not surprised, but since you apparently need the reminder, you are not <em>entitled</em> to the skills of every person you meet <em>one time</em>. Being charming and handsome doesn’t mean other people have to drop what they’re doing and bow to your whims.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die could see he was about to make another break for it, and he raised his arms to stop him again. “Wait—Please. Just wait.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya had been standing by in silence, clearly disturbed by how it was all going, but not willing to get involved. He moved subtly to block another path with his body, and gave Die a look over Kyo’s head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With a sigh, Die took a step back and gestured out of the hall towards the gardens outside. “Can we talk? I really didn’t mean to upset you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s eyes shifted warily to the gardens, visible through floor to ceiling windows on one side of the space. The quiet outside was in stark contrast with the chaotic mass of people all around them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Fine</em>,” he said at length. “But just for a few minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die walked side by side with him out into the peaceful night air. The few people occupying the outdoor space were far quieter and less oppressive than the crowd inside, and Die felt like he could actually breathe out there. He noticed belatedly that Toshiya had opted to stay inside, but he wasn’t going to complain about the chance to speak to Kyo alone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry,” he began without being prompted, “for springing Kaoru on you like that. I wasn’t planning it that way, and I should have thought of the uncomfortable position it would place you in.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It is something you were planning, though,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… Kaoru is a photographer,” Die said, figuring he should go back to the beginning of the story. “A good one. I had a photoshoot with him recently, and he’s a really decent guy. But the shoot didn’t go that well.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Failure on your part, was it?” Kyo said blithely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hah, no, actually. We had a number of issues with my hair and makeup.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked at him for the first time since they’d come outside, but didn’t say anything.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So he said he’d like to do another shoot,” Die continued,” and asked if I had anyone I liked working with as a stylist.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo raised an eyebrow. “And my name came up?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, naturally, I thought of you,” Die said, averting his gaze to the meticulously-arranged stone path at their feet. “I mean, I love what you did with my hair. I get compliments on it all the time, and I—I think you’re really talented.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I wasn’t sure. Cutting hair in a salon is kind of different, so I didn’t know if you would really be… up for that.” Die glanced back up at Kyo, found him watching him stoically. “I figured I would bring it up at my next appointment with you, see where things went from there. I didn’t expect to see Kaoru here tonight—or to see <em>you</em>. What—What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Same thing you are?” Kyo said, crossing his arms over his chest.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure, but I’m—People expect me to be here, ‘cause of my work,” Die said delicately. “The people in there are my colleagues and associates. I’ve never seen you or Toshiya at an event like this before.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo pursed his lips, then said, “Toshiya invited me. He got tickets from another hairdresser at our salon, who does some modeling work from time to time, and he thought it would be something I was into.” He shrugged. “He wasn’t wrong.” A pause, then, “I didn’t know you were going to be here, either.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die ignored the twinge of disappointment that came with those words, and said, “So, you see, it was all a big coincidence. I just saw you and Kaoru there together and figured the time was right for me to introduce you. But I was wrong. I can let him know you’re not interested.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m—I’m not <em>not</em> interested,” Kyo said awkwardly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Hope rushed up into Die’s chest. “You’re not?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t like things sprung on me,” Kyo said, “but… I could be into doing hair and/or makeup for a photoshoot. Probably pays well, eh?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die laughed. “I’m not sure how much it pays, but I’m willing to bet it’s more than you’d make in a day at the salon. Probably more than a<em> week’s</em> worth of appointments.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m willing to bet you’re right.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die didn’t try to fight his smile. “Then you’ll do it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged again. “If—Kaoru?—talks to me more and thinks I’d be a step up from whatever you guys had before—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, several steps, at least.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then sure. It sounds like it could be interesting.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s great! Oh, I’m so relieved. I thought maybe you—but this is good! Thanks for considering it, even after I was thoughtless.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded. “I do appreciate that you thought I’d be good for the job. Probably good for me to get out more.” He glanced back over his shoulder. “Um. Toshiya’s waiting for me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, right, of course!” Die hurried to get them back inside, though he really wouldn’t have minded spending a good deal longer out there talking with Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When they got back inside, Toshiya was standing near the windows, chatting with Shinya.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Shit</em>, Die thought. He hadn’t meant for Shinya to see him taking Kyo off alone to talk to him. He would never hear the end of it now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He stood by while Shinya and Kyo exchanged some friendly words, and then Kyo went with Toshiya, back towards the bar and the coat room, leaving Die with Shinya’s judgmental silence.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “All right, get on with it,” Die huffed, when the pause had been drawn out long enough. “Say whatever it is you’re thinking with that coy look on your face.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya blinked owlishly at him. “Is this coy?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know you have some opinion, so don’t keep it to yourself, that’s just even worse for my nerves.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m just… amused,” Shinya said, “that you managed to get into so much mischief during the short time in which we were separated.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not <em>mischief</em>,” Die said. “It was just—<em>funny</em>, running into them.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, funny,” Shinya said. He smoothed a hand over his hair, even though it looked perfect already. “And you needed to speak to Kyo outside, alone, in the… <em>romantic</em> garden setting, because…?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It wasn’t romantic!” Die said, too quickly. “It was—I had offended him, so I wanted to—to clear the air, and it was so loud in here, with all the people.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah.” Shinya nodded in a patronizing way, and Die felt himself blushing hopelessly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It wasn’t anything,” Die tried to say, but it came out meek and unconvincing even to his own ears.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It technically hadn’t been anything. He really had just wanted to apologize for the lack of professional courtesy he’d given Kyo in asking him to work with him and Kaoru. But he also couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t <em>felt</em> something with Kyo, <em>wanted</em> it to be more than just a professional chat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he’d met Kyo the first time, he’d been so determined to not take an interest in him. His manners had been so lacking, and he’d been so cold—but he’d intrigued Die even then. And seeing him at the gala, so unexpectedly, <em>standing out </em>in a crowd full of people whose careers hinged on their conventional beauty, Die had been totally caught off-guard. And damn, Kyo cleaned up nice. Fuckin’ tails? Die didn’t think he’d seen anyone who looked better the entire evening, and that was saying something.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya let the matter go, and Die was grateful, but he didn’t stop thinking about it himself. It wasn’t unusual for him to be attracted to someone, or even catch feelings for them, but Kyo was so different from what he was used to.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Did that matter? If the connection was there, wasn’t that enough? And he did feel some certain indescribable feeling just looking at Kyo, speaking to him…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was something there. And Kyo agreeing to do the gig with him and Kaoru went to show that it wasn’t one-sided. Die would just have to find out exactly what that <em>something</em> was.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Very short chapter! Sorry!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">If nothing else, Kyo supposed he could be glad that Toshiya waited to bring up the subject of Die until they left the gala. He might have been the one yelling at Toshiya in the first place for getting him into that situation, but after <em>speaking</em> to Die, Kyo really didn’t want to deal with Toshiya’s over-eager hounding him for details, or his way of making Kyo feel like he was doing something wrong.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> All the same, he knew Toshiya couldn’t restrain himself indefinitely, and that perhaps it was unfair to even hope that he would. It wasn’t like Kyo had anything to hide, or any reason to keep things from him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They were already in the cab heading home, when Toshiya shifted beside Kyo in a way that Kyo just <em>knew</em> preceded an end to his silence.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So… Die, huh?” Toshiya said. “What, um, what did he want to talk to you about?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo sighed, continued looking out the window at the lights of the city passing. “Work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “His work or yours?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Both,” Kyo said. “That guy who came over and gave me his card is some photographer, and he wants me to work with him for some shoot.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Really? That would be awesome!” Toshiya said, but followed himself up with, “Wouldn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know,” Kyo said truthfully.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Isn’t that something that you’d… like?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo scrunched up his mouth as he thought about it. On the one hand, <em>yes</em>, it would be a well-paying gig in his field, but doing something he didn’t get to try his hand at as often. It could even potentially lead to <em>more</em> work, which might be something he needed, if the rumors about the salon had anything to them. And the prospect of work where he might have more freedom to use his skills creatively was… exciting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But Kyo felt too wary to be excited. He’d been really uncomfortable with the way that Die had failed to even ask him about it before shoving him in front of that photographer. And did Die even know him well enough to be putting him up for jobs like that?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think,” Kyo said, “that I’d be more into it if it wasn’t Die.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He swore he could <em>feel</em> Toshiya frowning next to him without even looking.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You really dislike him that much?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not really a matter of liking him or not liking him,” Kyo said. “I’ve done his hair all of <em>one single time</em>, and suddenly he’s recommending me for major fashion photoshoots? It’s just <em>weird</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He must just like how you did his hair.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo finally looked over at Toshiya just to glare. “Did you <em>know</em> he was planning this?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course not!” Toshiya flailed. “I swear to god, I haven’t heard from him since the last time he had an appointment with you. I had no idea he would even be at the thing tonight!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head, turned back to the window. He still didn’t buy that it was just a <em>coincidence</em> that they ran into the very person Toshiya was obsessively trying to force Kyo’s interest in. He should have predicted the pattern of behavior far enough in advance to decline Toshiya’s invitation to the gala altogether.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know it’s weird,” Toshiya said, “and that you think I’m plotting against you. But I would never do that, even if I had the first idea how to. I didn’t know Die was there until you started chewing me out for it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well. I am sorry for yelling,” Kyo said stiffly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shinya seemed surprised we were there, too, so I don’t think anything was planned ahead of time on their end, either,” Toshiya said. “You should have seen his face when I told him you were outside talking with Die.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo narrowed his eyes at Toshiya. “Why, what kind of face was it? Shocked?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It was a whole face journey,” Toshiya said. “Bewilderment, amusement, something… smug? The surprise might have been the shortest part of it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t know if he liked the sound of that. He knew that Shinya was smart, and it was easy to get the impression that he knew more about any given situation than Kyo did himself, but if that was how Shinya reacted to Die speaking alone with Kyo, he wasn’t sure he’d like to know what additional information Shinya had.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The whole thing was a bad idea. Kyo didn't even want to spend extra time working with Die. Why did he have to get roped into all this?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die seemed really happy to see you,” Toshiya said quietly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t what Kyo wanted to hear. “He was probably drunk,” he argued. “Or just stoked ‘cause he saw his chance to jump into business with that photographer, remember? He was probably thrilled at the prospect of profit.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Business is good,” Toshiya said. “But I don’t think that’s how he sees you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s jaw clicked. He didn’t really think so, either. Based on all the information he'd gathered, Die had only introduced him to Kaoru as a total spur-of-the-moment move, because they’d happened to be in the same place. If Die had had business in mind upon first seeing Kyo, he probably would have tried to set the scene a little before the photographer showed up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t want to think about how he sees me,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What about how you see him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t want to think about that either.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You weren’t happy to run into him unexpectedly.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo gave an incredulous snort. “Did I <em>seem</em> happy? I was <em>pissed</em>. I don’t think about him at all, except to remember how I disagree with his makeup tips and wonder how Shinya’s friends with someone who seems like such a prick.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He’s never seemed as bad as all that when I’ve talked to him,” Toshiya said. “And in Shinya’s video, he seemed sweet and funny—and spoke well of <em>you</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Call it proof of his bad taste,” Kyo said with a shrug.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe Toshiya got the hint that Kyo wasn’t in the mood, because he gave up arguing with him, and they discussed other aspects of the evening until the taxi pulled up to drop Kyo off outside his building.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He said goodnight and went up to his apartment with a great deal on his mind.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He never should have told Die that he was interested in the photoshoot. What had he been thinking? There was no way Die wasn’t going to make it weird somehow, and Kyo would be completely on his own as he tried to diffuse any awkwardness in an unfamiliar setting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He found himself wishing Shinya was going to be there. Would he be out of line if he tried to invite him as a guest? He could always trust Shinya to moderate a situation; even tonight, he’d been comforted greatly by Shinya’s casual presence when he returned from speaking with Die. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then again, wasn’t it Shinya who had recommended Kyo to Die in the first place? He’d <em>started</em> this mess. Why would he do something like that? And what reason did he have for looking smug about them talking? Perhaps he was actually the least trustworthy of them all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo did what he could to put it out of his mind, as he always did. He didn’t have to think about Die when he wasn’t there. He took Kaoru’s business card from his pocket and left it on the dresser with every intention of forgetting about it. If he never reached out, it would never move forward. He could deal with the consequences if and when he saw Die at his next hair appointment, and could live his life freely in the meantime.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Y'all are the best by the way. Thanks for being so rad and supportive. It means a lot to me. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Die was a professional, and that meant he was good at not scratching, even when the wig he was wearing for this gig was one of the itchiest damn things he’d ever had to put on his head. He kept his complaints to himself, and only smiled and bowed politely when at long last the shoot wrapped.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His sigh of relief came when he was able to remove his wig back in the makeup room, and the stylist watched in amusement as he shook out his hair that had been trapped underneath.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Seems a shame to use a wig when your real hair is so great,” the stylist said, taking the wig from him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die laughed good-naturedly. “Yeah, but wigs are fun!” He didn’t mention the itchy part.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And maybe it means less time in the chair for you,” the stylist agreed. “Look, it’s barely after noon, and we’re already finished. Any plans for what you’re doing with the rest of your day?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Actually, I’ve got to go to the salon.” Die said, pulling his makeup wipes out of his bag. “This ‘great hair’ doesn’t happen all on its own.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, whoever you’ve got doing it is a true artist, and I’d love to get that salon’s information.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll be sure to forward it to you,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He finished cleaning himself up, thanking the various crew members, and then just had time to stop for coffee before his hair appointment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The truth was, he was incredibly nervous about it. It had been looming on his calendar for weeks, but the day had finally come, and he really didn’t know how it was going to go. He was excited, to see Kyo again, but he was also wondering if he’d made a mistake.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d hardly waited a single <em>day</em> after the gala before he’d contacted Kaoru to tell him Kyo had agreed to work with them. He’d gotten Kyo’s contact info from Shinya and sent it along, so Kaoru could finalize arrangements with him directly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As expected, Shinya had had something to say about that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kyo hasn’t given you a way to get in touch with him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, it never came up,” Die said. “I only had the one appointment with him…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He doesn’t give his information out to just anyone,” Shinya said. “I have it because he was interested in receiving updates about my channel. He might not appreciate my sharing that info with others.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not like you’re handing out his number at a club,” Die argued. “It’s just for this project he <em>said</em> he wanted to do together. I’m passing it on to the photographer, so they can be in contact.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then you’re not planning on using it yourself, to reach him socially?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die had scoffed rather too loudly at the suggestion. “What—Why would I need to reach him <em>socially</em>?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It had been quite a trial, refraining from doing just that, but with how hesitant Shinya had been to share Kyo’s information, Die didn’t want to put him in a bad position by making unsolicited contact. He didn’t think Kyo would be that upset to hear from him, but Shinya shouldn’t have to take responsibility for that risk.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, to his dismay, Die hadn't spoken to Kyo at all since the night of the party, and in that time, he'd come to have more than a few doubts about dragging him into the job with Kaoru. Yes, Kyo had expressed interest—eventually—but the fact remained that, in Die’s experience, Kyo had a poor attitude. If Die brought him into his workspace, vouched for him, and then Kyo acted out, came off as rude and unprofessional, it would reflect badly on Die, too.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d rushed into things. They should have had a long discussion about expectations and requirements before anyone agreed to anything, and Die had just gotten carried away in his excitement, because—Why? Because Kyo looked good in tails?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was a poor excuse for something that could damage his career.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, Die tried not to be paranoid. Based on his most recent interaction with Kyo, he was pretty sure they were on better terms than when they’d first met. Kyo had heard him out, seemed to accept his apology. He wouldn’t have agreed to work with him if he really hated Die’s guts, right?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The nerves were still there when Die arrived at the salon, but he tried to see it as a good kind of nerves. He’d been nervous the first time he’d come for Kyo to do his hair, too, but it had turned out better than he’d predicted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He swept his hair over his shoulder as he came in, and stopped by the front desk to check in and say hello.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Good to see you again!” Die said. “Toshiya! Did I get that right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya smiled back. “Yes, good afternoon, Die. It’s nice to see you, too.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I think Kyo is just finishing getting his station ready, so he’ll be with you in a few minutes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded, but instead of heading to the waiting area to sit down, he just leaned against Toshiya’s counter. “So, you two are friends, I take it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Me and Kyo? Yeah, I guess so,” Toshiya said. “We’ve worked together for a while now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you often go to fashion events, like the one where I saw you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No,” Toshiya said slowly, “not often. Not ever, really. It was just a strange coincidence, meeting you there.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “A happy coincidence, though, I hope,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, of course,” Toshiya said, though he didn’t sound entirely sure of himself. “It was great seeing you and Shinya. He usually accompanies you to those parties?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We spend a lot of time together,” Die said. “We’ve known each other since our school days. In my line of work, you know, it can be hard to find people who are sincere. Shinya is a break from all those kinds of personas, and at the same time, he’s a good judge of character, so he can help me tell when other people are or aren’t being genuine.” He peered past Toshiya to see if he could spot Kyo at his work station, but maybe he was in the back, because he couldn’t see him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I actually saw when you made that guest appearance on Shinya’s channel,” Toshiya said. “I hadn’t realized before then that you were so close.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, did you?” Die smiled, always happy to hear that his friend’s videos were getting attention. “Yeah, we’d been trying to get something like that to happen for quite some time. I was glad we could get it all to come together.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sure it’s difficult with the demands of your work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Even worse than you’d expect,” Die said. “But I’m glad you saw the video—Did you notice we gave a shoutout to the salon?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya nodded, laughing. “Of course! And Kyo—you know, he appreciated your crediting him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die could only hope he’d sufficiently managed to temper his facial expression before embarrassing himself with his unfettered elation. “Kyo watched it, too?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess he follows Shinya’s channel—Shinya’s one of the few people he really likes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you know—Did he say what he thought? Of the video?” Die stammered. “I mean—What did <em>you</em> think?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wasn’t being smooth at all. He couldn’t tell why he was getting flustered. It wasn’t even like his feelings regarding Kyo were all that strong. Why did he put stock in what he thought of a video on Shinya’s channel?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Before Toshiya could answer, or potentially comment on Die’s awkwardness, there was a loud crash from somewhere in the back, followed by some soft cursing, and Toshiya excused himself to go see what had happened.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Rather than stay put and wait for him to return, Die just kind of trailed after him toward the back of the salon to see what had been the source of what they’d heard.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was Kyo, obviously; he’d knocked over a bin full of spray bottles, and while nothing was broken it had made quite a bit of noise.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die hovered in the background while Toshiya went rushing to help Kyo clean up, speaking to him in hushed tones about what had happened.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His hanging back did not actually render him invisible, and in only a matter of seconds, Kyo looked up with his arms full of spray bottles, and caught sight of Die. He was wearing glasses, as he had been the first time they’d met, though this pair seemed to have rounder lenses than the ones he’d been wearing before. Not that Die had noticed something like that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey,” Die said, and waved. It wasn’t clever or cool, but he wasn’t trying to impress anyone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh,” Toshiya said as he realized Die had followed him, “um, here, Kyo go ahead and take care of your customer. I’ll finish cleaning up here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For a moment, it seemed like Kyo was going to argue, but he just muttered his thanks and jerked his head for Die to follow him over to the hair washing sinks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The routine was familiar, but Die didn’t want to sit down without at least greeting Kyo properly first. He held his arms open once they stopped walking and grinned widely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Long time no see! How’ve you been?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo gave him a blank look. “Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> If Kyo wouldn’t go for the hug, Die opted to do it himself, and threw an arm haphazardly around Kyo’s shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo immediately flinched back. “What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Saying hello? I’ve been looking forward to seeing you again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo made a face. “You have an appointment, right? You’re here for hair maintenance.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, of course,” Die said. He wasn’t sure how concerned he should be by Kyo’s lukewarm disposition towards him. What reason did he have to be so standoffish when Die was trying to be friendly? </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He took his seat and remained quiet as Kyo started washing his hair. It was a soothing experience, and Kyo’s hands were steady and sure, easing tension as his fingers combed through Die’s hair or pressed against his scalp. Part of Die wanted to watch it all happen, see the look of concentration on Kyo’s intriguing face as he worked, but the water was so relaxing he couldn’t really keep his eyes open.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He could open his mouth, though, so he did, asking, “So, what have you been up to since last time I saw you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The hands in his hair paused. “Same as usual.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nothing interesting going on in your life?” Die pressed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not really,” Kyo said shortly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die tried not to frown. Why was Kyo so unwilling to participate in some casual conversation?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He tried again, “Toshiya mentioned that you had seen Shinya’s video that I appeared in.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hm, did he?” Kyo sounded disinterested.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, the one where I was talking about, ah, which hair and skin products I typically use to achieve my daily look?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mmhmm.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So… you watched it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mmhmm.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die squinted one eye open to glare at Kyo, but he hardly seemed to be giving any attention to anything outside of moving the little shower head over Die’s hair.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well,” Die said impatiently, “what did you think?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo sighed, like that was some kind of idiotic question. “Very little.” He finished rinsing Die’s hair, and tossed a towel towards him without another word.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die caught the towel flying at him, but he was scowling as he used it to dry his hair. How could he have let himself forget even for a moment about Kyo’s bad attitude? He couldn’t say exactly what he <em>had</em> been expecting, but it wasn’t all this <em>hostility</em>. When they’d talked at the gala, he’d thought things between them were moving in a friendlier direction, and he couldn’t understand why Kyo was so determined to reject his attempts at reaching out.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Following Kyo to his individual work station, Die asked bluntly, “Is there something bothering you, or are you just always a dick?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo turned to look at him with raised eyebrows. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I mean, you were like this last time, but I thought we’d just gotten off on the wrong foot,” Die said, and sat down in the seat at Kyo’s station. Maybe it was a bad idea to say things to piss him off when he was about to get his scissors on Die’s hair, but Die had never been the best at controlling his temper. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How did you expect me to act?” Kyo said, through clenched teeth. “You thought I’d roll out the red carpet and come crawling on my knees for you just because you found me a paying gig? I’m not that desperate.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not about the <em>job</em>,” Die said. “It’s—I thought we were—you know, <em>closer</em> than this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Closer</em>?” Kyo repeated in disbelief. He paced in front of Die’s chair, one hand pulling at his own choppy bangs. “Closer than <em>what</em>? Wh-what do you think is <em>happening</em> here? This is exactly what I was afraid of with you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t think anything is happening,” Die backpedaled. He wasn’t too slow to see that he’d crossed some professional boundary and made things awkward. “I didn’t mean like that. I just meant, you’re so—I’m trying to be <em>nice</em>, and you’re—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t need your pity-kindness,” Kyo snarled. “I’m here to do your hair, and that’s it. I don’t owe you any more than I owe any of my other clients, and I don’t engage in meaningless smalltalk with <em>them</em>, either. You’re not <em>special</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die snapped his mouth shut, tried to hide just how much those words hurt. He was surprised by it, if he was honest. It wasn’t something he was unaccustomed to hearing, in his work; back when he’d been starting out, he’d heard it all the time:</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>You’re not special. You’re replaceable. Pretty faces like yours are found on every street corner in the world.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It hurt more coming from Kyo, though Die didn’t want to examine why.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was tempted to keep fighting, to find another cruel thing to say, to hit back as hard as Kyo had just hit him, but he also knew there was nothing really <em>wrong</em> about what Kyo had said. Their relationship was professional, and Kyo was within his rights, telling Die to respect that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was still standing there, glowering at Die, waiting for his response to direct whatever happened next.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die needed to apologize again. That was his role. He couldn’t make himself do it. He was sorry that he’d called Kyo a dick, sorry that he’d offended him. But he wasn’t exactly sorry for wanting what he wanted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Was it really so unreasonable to hope that Kyo might be friendly towards him? Was he so socially inept that he couldn’t read when an interaction was totally one-sided?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do my hair, then,” Die said after a too-long pause. It wasn’t what he should have said. It came out rude and challenging instead of appreciative and contrite, and Die was perfectly aware of what Kyo must think of him because he didn’t try to hide it at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A cape was fastened roughly around Die’s neck, and Kyo started on his hair without another word.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was something of a shock that he was still willing to do it. Die had half-expected him to storm off, and leave Die sitting there in his shame.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo worked in silence the entire time, which only made Die feel worse. Of course it was what he had said, that he didn’t do smalltalk with his clients, and that Die was no different.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But Die <em>wanted</em> to be different. He didn’t want to be another faceless head of hair to Kyo, didn’t even wanting meaningless conversations with him. He wanted <em>meaningful</em> conversations. He wanted to know what Kyo thought about things, wanted to hear him laugh, wanted to watch his mannerisms as he considered something, and oh dear, Die realized all of these facts pointed in one clear and troubling direction.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He had definitely made a mistake in recruiting Kyo for that photoshoot. He should have waited until he knew him better, should have respected him. Now the mere obligation likely made Kyo feel uncomfortable, like Die was trying to take advantage of his talents by claiming some nonexistent privileged relationship with him, but it was too late now to back out. If Die were to contact Kaoru at this point and ask to cancel, it would look flakey and unprofessional on both his and Kyo’s parts, and that wasn’t what he wanted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So Die kept his mouth shut as Kyo worked, thanked him politely when he finished, and promised himself he would give Kyo the space he needed. Maybe, in time, Kyo could come to think better of him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Kyo glanced up at the sound of a polite cough beside his chair, and was unsurprised to find Toshiya standing there, looking nervous.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was the same expression he’d been wearing around Kyo for the past couple weeks, guilty and afraid, like Kyo might lash out at him at any moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t think he quite deserved it. He hadn’t been taking his frustrations out on Toshiya particularly. He wouldn’t deny that he was frustrated, but he didn’t place as much blame on Toshiya as he honestly could have, and truly, his anger even with Die himself had dwindled since he hadn’t seen or heard from him in a while.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The whole matter was difficult to explain, especially to someone like Toshiya. Kyo knew they had very different understandings of certain things, which wasn’t to say either one of them was right or wrong, but just that they couldn’t exactly see eye to eye on the subject of Die and his behavior.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I really think he was just trying to be friendly,” Toshiya had said after Die's last appointment. “He was probably close with his last hairdresser, and he misses that. Is it so wrong for him to want you to respond the same way?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t know how to express that Die’s friendliness was uninvited. He knew Die thought he was an asshole, that maybe Toshiya did, too, but he was unwilling to let himself be pressured into any kind of social relationship that he didn’t want, even if it was only meant to be friendly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Add to that the fact that Kyo wasn’t entirely sure it <em>was</em> meant to be just friendly… It was hard to gauge, but with how insistent Toshiya was that Kyo ought to have some <em>feeling</em> about Die, the unsolicited interpretations of Die’s actions and so forth, Kyo was concerned that there could be more to what Die wanted than just a simple professional camaraderie. Whether that came from Die himself or just from Toshiya’s meddling, he couldn’t say, but if it was even being <em>perceived</em> that way by an outsider, it was enough to make Kyo uneasy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Something changed with the schedule?” Kyo asked now, since Toshiya had rarely come to speak to him for any other reason lately.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya nodded. “Your four o’clock wanted to reschedule for Friday, but… well, I pushed her back to Monday instead, so I hope that’s all right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “It’s fine.” He very nearly asked what was wrong with Friday, but caught himself at the last second, remembering that it was the day of the dreaded photoshoot with Die and his photographer friend. All his appointments had had to be shuffled around because of it. “I’m done for the day, then?” he said pushing himself up from his chair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sorry for the inconvenience,” Toshiya said, and bowed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It rubbed Kyo the wrong way, and he held out a hand. “Sorry for the inconvenience—what is this? I know it’s not your fault. Why do you feel the need to be so formal with me? I’m not pissed at <em>you</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya gave himlook that stated clearly just how much he didn’t believe him. “It’s my fault you’re in this mess with—Die.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not in a mess with him,” Kyo said. “We’re working together, and I am capable of working with people in spite of past disagreements.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Would we call your disagreements with Die ‘past’?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The point is it’s not a problem,” Kyo said, trying to believe his words as he said them. “And it’s not your fault. I’m sorry if I made you feel like it is.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Hesitantly, Toshiya took a step towards him. “If you want me to cancel his future appointments—or to reassign him to another hairdresser—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then I would have said so weeks ago,” Kyo interrupted gently. “I can work with him just as fine, as long as he doesn’t <em>talk</em> to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then you are still doing the shoot on Friday?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess I am,” Kyo said with a sigh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It surprised him somewhat. After his last meeting with Die, he’d been sure he would get a phone call or email dismissing him from the project, but instead he’d received several missives from the photographer and design team, bouncing around ideas for collaboration. From what he could tell, Kaoru had no qualms about working with him, which suggested that Die hadn’t been all that forthcoming about his experiences with Kyo.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo couldn’t understand that. If Die had had such an obvious problem with him, why was he still willing to work together, and why wouldn’t he warn his photographer friend that there could be trouble?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Rather than spend too much time on those concerns, Kyo went ahead and let himself feel excited about the shoot. Based on what he’d gotten from Kaoru, it was actually going to be pretty cool, and if he thought of Die as simply a slab of clay that he got to mold and sculpt, then the prospect of seeing him wasn’t so stressful.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When Friday rolled around, Kyo was determined to not make the shoot weird at all. He didn’t need to go in angry with Die. He just wanted to go and do the job.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He showed up early, and half-expected to be the first one there, but as he approached, he found Kaoru himself standing outside, smoking. He stopped to talk to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Morning.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru nodded in greeting, then paused. “Kyo, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Unn. You’re here early.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru shrugged. “I’m a control freak. Can’t keep control if I’m not the first one here.” He blew out some smoke. “Die isn’t here yet. The only people in there are getting the set and equipment put up. You’re welcome to go in and get your own things situated, though, if you like.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks, I will, in a minute.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you have any questions about today?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo thought about it. He’d gotten a fair amount of information ahead of time, and he was no stranger to making people up or doing hair, so he wasn’t really worried about it. Still, it seemed like there ought to be <em>something</em> he wanted to ask…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Actually, while you’re working that out,” Kaoru said, “I have a couple questions for you, if that’s all right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was finding he liked this guy. He was a little nontraditional, and Kyo appreciated his straightforward way of communicating. “Go ahead,” he said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How long have you known Die?” Kaoru’s voice was perfectly neutral, but his eyes were slightly narrowed. “In all honesty, <em>I</em> personally haven’t known him all that long, and our first shoot together didn’t leave much time to get well acquainted. His body of work speaks for itself, but I just wondered if you have any more insight about him as an individual.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For some reason, it wasn’t what Kyo expected, and he made a face before he could stop himself. “None whatsoever.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru raised an eyebrow. “No insight?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I mean,” Kyo said, “we only met a few months ago, and know each other in a pretty strictly working context.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Really?” Kaoru frowned. “Based on when he introduced you, I got the impression that you were fairly close. He was so enthusiastic about hiring you for this shoot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo knew he’d better be careful, so as not to say something to sabotage himself. “I guess he just likes the work I do on his hair.” Without meaning to, he added, “We don’t even get along most of the time when we’re together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was the wrong thing to say, and Kyo realized it only in the split-second after it left his mouth and it was too late.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Quiet surprise showed on Kaoru’s face. “You don’t get along?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not—That’s not exactly what I meant,” Kyo said. “We get along fine, professionally, we’re just not—you know how Die is, right? He’s got issues with minding people's personal space, and I’m someone who doesn’t get all that close to others.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve never noticed Die having trouble with personal space,” Kaoru said. “But I haven’t been around him all that much, and I can certainly see how someone in his line of work would have fewer concerns about physical boundaries than your average Japanese man.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo hadn’t thought about it in those terms. Of course it didn’t work that way for everyone; for Kyo personally, a career based around touching people only meant he valued his privacy and space <em>more</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “At any rate, I apologize for how working with him today might bring you into some unwanted contact… I didn’t realize the two of you had such, ah, conflicts,” Kaoru said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head. “No apology is necessary. There’s no conflict, really, like I said, we—have no problem working together. We just aren’t close, outside of that.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was a serious downplay of the situation and Kyo knew it, but he hoped Kaoru wouldn’t notice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In an effort to leave him less time to pick up on his discomfort, Kyo said how much he was looking forward to working together, and then excused himself to go set up at the hair and makeup station inside.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a good-size mirror, and the lighting was sufficient. He started laying out what he would need, made note of nearby outlets and water sources, and met the rest of the team as they showed up gradually.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When Kaoru came inside, he and Kyo went over the designs one more time, discussed any last-minute changes, and walked the limited hair and makeup team through everything so they could know how to perform necessary touch-ups. It wasn’t quite the job Kyo was used to doing, but there was something intuitive about it, and he didn’t feel that far outside his comfort zone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was one of the last people to arrive—not because he was late, but because most of the work that needed to be done didn’t require his physical presence. He was dropped into the makeup chair pretty much as soon as he showed up, and Kyo could <em>feel</em> the waves of distrust and uncertainty rolling off of him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He refused to give into it. Die could be as awkward as he wanted, but Kyo wasn’t going to let him start another fight. He set to work on Die’s face without more than the most minimal greeting, and quickly became wrapped up in what he was doing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In spite of the mixed feelings he’d had going into this project, Kyo had to admit, he was enjoying himself. He was getting to do Die’s makeup in a way that truly demonstrated his artistry, and no one had done anything to make him feel unwelcome or like he didn’t belong. He could get used to working jobs like this.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And he really <em>wasn’t</em> mad at Die anymore. Now that he was there, Die was being perfectly patient and still, following Kyo’s direction of when to close his eyes or turn his head without argument. He was worlds better than the dancers whose makeup Kyo had done in the past.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was halfway through doing Die’s face when Die finally made some indistinguishable little noise, and Kyo took a step back to look at him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes?” he said. Did he need to get up and use the restroom already?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sorry to interrupt,” Die said. “You can feel free to say no, I know it’s not your thing, but I wondered if I… might be allowed to talk to you. A little.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shifted his weight, wary. “About what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not about anything. I just—I guess I get sort of nervous sometimes before shoots, and I think talking would help me relax.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo sniffed and picked up the next color for the highlights around Die’s eyes. “You don’t seem like the type to get nervous for a shoot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No?” Die’s mouth twitched, like he wanted to to smile, but he was carefully keeping his face still. “I guess it’s not exactly that I’m nervous about the shoot itself—Obviously I’ve been doing this a while, so it’s nothing very new or scary, but ah, I actually have anxiety? So I’m kind of stressed, you know, usually.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded slowly. He wouldn’t have guessed that Die had anxiety, but he should probably have known better than to make judgments like that based on such limited knowledge of someone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m usually stressed, too,” he said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die laughed awkwardly. “I hadn’t noticed.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo raised his eyebrows, then snorted. “All right, so I don’t hide it as well as you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you anxious about the photoshoot?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo pursed his lips, focused on the meticulous lines he was making along Die’s skin for a moment while he considered his answer. At length he said, “Nah. I was, before I got here. I was worried how you’d act, what bullshit you’d told Kaoru about me—but he’s cool.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess you’re being fine so far.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Again, Die laughed. “Thanks. I wouldn’t have said anything bad about you to Kaoru, you know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No? Is that because you don’t <em>think</em> anything bad about me, or just because it would have reflected badly upon <em>you</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die made a face at that, and Kyo felt simultaneously smug and a little sad. It was what he’d expected but the confirmation stung anyway. Where did Die get off thinking bad things about him when Die was the one whose behavior was so out of line?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I get that you think I’m an asshole,” Die said quietly. “And I’m sorry I’ve given you cause to think that. I really appreciate that you were still willing to work with me in spite of it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “I work with assholes all the time. You’re not that different.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die didn’t have anything to say in response to that, and Kyo went back to working without conversation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was comfortable for him. That was the way he preferred to work. And yet, he had the uneasy feeling that he was letting Die down, withholding something from him. He could have been helping relieve Die’s anxiety, and instead he was remaining selfishly silent. But although he wasn’t trying to be spiteful, it was hard to think of anything else to bring up; with how strained things were between them, it seemed that any subject he started in on would only make things worse.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo pulled back to check the symmetry of Die’s makeup, and snapped the lid back on the powder he was using. Coming to a decision, he called one of the assistants over, and she looked at him with wide, expectant eyes.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Could you please start straightening his hair while I finish his makeup?” Kyo said smoothly. “And talk to him?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s eyes flicked towards him in surprise, but he kept his mouth shut.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The assistant also seemed surprised by the request. “Talk to him… about what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t care,” Kyo said. “Whatever you guys feel like talking about.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She nodded uncertainly but didn’t argue, and Kyo was able to give his work his full attention while Die chatted in apparent contentment with the hair assistant.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo thought he liked Die better this way: distracted. It was much easier to get along with him when he wasn’t trying to make conversation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was reminded of how he’d seen Die acting in Shinya’s video. Then, too, Kyo had thought perhaps whatever qualities in Die he disliked may have been only in response to Kyo’s own negative qualities. Speaking to the assistant as he was now, Die was the very picture of charm and good nature. He was kind and polite, and both of them were laughing frequently. Now and then, Die would catch Kyo’s eye, but he couldn’t tell what he was trying to communicate to him with that look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In time, they had Die ready, and he thanked them before going to dress for the first part of the shoot.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wasn’t sure how to take the whole thing, but he found, generally, his feelings towards Die were better. He kind of liked how he could hear that incriminating giggle of his, even when he left the room, and he’d been surprised by how easy he was to work with. It was sort of backwards, but seeing how much more likable Die was when they weren’t talking made Kyo <em>want</em> to talk to him more.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He watched, standing back with the rest of the crew, as the actual shoot began.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was good at his job. He took direction well, and gave Kaoru a variety of dynamic and interesting poses to work with. Throughout it all, he kept cracking jokes, not like a clown, but with just enough subtlety to be actually funny. He was endlessly respectful whenever he interacted with the crew, and Kyo was pleasantly surprised to see he was so down to earth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was starting to <em>consider</em> the possibility that his first impression about him had been wrong.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys! Sorry for the late update. This week is a little busy for me, so it's gonna be back to two updates for the moment. I hope everyone's keeping healthy and managing stress okay. <br/>Poor Die's really in it now.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">When Kaoru called for a break so they could reset and change the lighting, someone was waiting off to the side to hand Die a water bottle with a straw. He accepted it gratefully, and paid little mind to the assistant touching up his hair.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So far, the shoot was going smoothly. There had been no problem with any of the hair and makeup, and although Kaoru wasn't the most demonstrative when it came to his emotions, it was clear that he wasn’t frustrated as he had been at the other shoot.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die knew that was largely thanks to Kyo and his competence. From the moment Die had walked in, Kyo had been nothing but chill and professional, seeming as if this was the environment in which he'd been meant to work his entire life.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> On top of that, Die didn't typically like to compare the different looks he'd had for different jobs, but he couldn't ignore just how much he <em>liked</em> the makeup Kyo had done on him. He spent a good chunk of his break taking selfies just so he could look back on this styling and appreciate the aesthetic. Kyo had serious talent, more even than Die had been expecting, since he’d only really witnessed his skills in styling <em>hair</em>, prior to today.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was with no small amount of shame that Die thought of how he’d nearly screwed things up badly enough to make Kyo back out of the shoot.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He couldn’t really fathom his own behavior now, but before arriving in the morning, Die had been close to terrified about how it was all going to go. He’d been hung up on the way things had gone between them the last time he’d seen Kyo, had wondered whether the entire production was going to crash and burn because of Kyo and his bad attitude.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But as it happened, that attitude was nowhere in sight. Kyo had just been doing his job all morning, and there had been no problem.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In fact, Kyo had been <em>kind</em> to Die. In spite of Die’s knowledge that Kyo preferred to work without conversation, Kyo hadn’t been unwilling to speak to him, and it had done a great deal to calm Die’s pre-photoshoot nerves. He hadn’t even made any snarky or judgmental comments about Die’s anxiety, which—it wasn’t that Die had <em>expected</em> him to, but it wouldn’t have been the first time that he faced ridicule for his poor mental health, especially in his line of work. And yet, rather than say anything to make Die feel worse, Kyo had actually offered up something about himself in return. Die would have liked to hear a lot more about Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He could see him now, talking idly with a member of the lighting crew. He would laugh occasionally, and it felt like the ground was shaking beneath Die every time. How could he do that so easily with someone else? What did Die need to do to get him to laugh like that?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"> It really sucked to know that he was Nobody to Kyo. No matter how special, how fascinating, he thought Kyo was, he’d been told repeatedly that such a feeling wasn’t mutual. Die wasn’t different from anyone else whose hair Kyo did. </span>Much as he tried to search for some evidence that Kyo cared more than he was letting on, Die needed to accept that he didn’t mean anything more to him than a paycheck, and if that hurt, there wasn’t anything he could do about it.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Unless he could somehow <em>change</em> Kyo’s perception of him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> If Die could prove to Kyo that he <em>was</em> different, could convince him to see another side of him… That was really his only hope of getting Kyo to notice him at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And he couldn’t do it by just staring at him from across the room. He could refrain from <em>pushing</em>, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere if he didn’t try to make more contact.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He marched over to where Kyo and the other guy—Kohei, if the memory of his name Die was pulling up was correct—were talking, and if Kyo noticed his approach he didn’t react to it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die greeted Kohei first, relieved to have correctly recognized him as someone he’d worked with before, and nodded hello to Kyo afterwards.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, this guy did your makeup for this, huh?” Kohei said. “He’s pretty funny, I didn’t see him being into that stuff until he told me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo raised an appropriately offended eyebrow. “People who do makeup can’t be funny?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Aw, I didn’t mean it like that,” Kohei said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just mean—I don’t have an artistic bone in my body. Usually the... styling people don’t really come and talk to us who are more on the tech side of things. We don’t really have anything in common.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “I don’t see that we’re all that different. We just each have our areas of focus.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kohei burst out laughing. “Was that a lighting pun??”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s little smirk told Die that it had indeed been intentional, though it had flown right over Die’s head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He stood there with them a few minutes longer, until the break ended, mostly just listening to their chat. He’d worried at first that his presence might cause Kyo to clam up, but for the most part he just ignored him and went on talking to the lighting tech. It seemed that Kyo was much more open to being social when he wasn’t trying to concentrate on doing hair, which Die supposed made sense, and he learned a few things about him, just by keeping quiet and listening.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He found out he was from Kyoto originally, that that was where he’d gotten his name. He found out he liked watching American movies and TV shows, especially sci-fi and horror. He found out he had an almost obsessive appreciation for chocolate, and he was still fantasizing about where he could buy him some when they were all called for the shoot to continue.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Really quickly, before we get back into the zone,” Kaoru said, “I promised that I would introduce you.” He gestured to a man beside him, who Die had noticed was observing throughout the day, but who wasn’t especially familiar.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s a pleasure to see you work,” the man said, and bowed. “You have such a magnetic energy, I’m completely drawn in.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, thank you, that’s very kind of you to say,” Die replied.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru frowned slightly. “Die, have you met Boo before?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die looked from him back to the other man. His <em>name</em> was Boo? Die shook his head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo apologized for not introducing himself sooner, but Die was mostly just perplexed by how Kaoru was snickering.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry,” Kaoru said, putting up a hand. “You don’t know what a huge fan he is. I thought he’d like to come to the set to see an example of my photoshoots for his clients, but I think he was just stoked about the fact that <em>you</em> would be here more than anything else.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo seemed more amused than offended, and Die gathered that he and Kaoru must have been close enough friends to allow for that kind of teasing. He was still wondering just what kind of clients this Boo might have when Kaoru spoke up again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve been trying to tell him that you’re already signed with Free-Sun and he’s wasting his breath laying the compliments on so thick.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It clicked that Boo was in talent management, but although Die was flattered by his interest, he had to laugh a little at Kaoru’s words. “Hey, I’d never turn my nose up at a good compliment.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo laughed, too. “Honestly, though, I’m a big admirer of your work. I respect the fact that you’re committed to another management company, but if you ever find yourself seeking a change, I’d be happy to take you over. You just name your price.” He produced a sleek red and black business card from his wallet and passed it to Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you,” Die said. He doubted he’d have any use for it, having been happy with his arrangement with Free-Sun for the past decade, but it was always nice to know he remained desirable. He tried to find a safe place to stow the card in his current outfit.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think that should be enough interruptions, don’t you?” Kaoru said with a meaningful look at Boo, and everyone moved into position to carry on with production.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s thoughts were easily swept back to Kyo and all he’d learned about him as he got back in front of the camera. He had no mind to pay to Boo when he could see that <em>Kyo</em> was still watching as he worked. He preened inwardly at the attention, although it was impossible to gauge Kyo’s opinion of what he saw.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Was this the first professional photoshoot Kyo had ever been on the set of? He didn’t seem exactly excited, buy he wasn’t completely disinterested either.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was so much to wonder when it came to Kyo. How had he gotten into this business in the first place? Was working in a salon his dream job, or did he hope to own his own someday? What were his aspirations? Was his work on a photoshoot like this fulfilling for him, or would he rather work for one of those shows he’d talked about liking before, doing alien makeup for a space drama? Die wanted to ask him, to talk to him for hours more, to find out everything.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At the same time, based on his experiences he had to think Kyo really didn’t want to share any of that with him. Maybe he’d already given Kyo such a bad impression of himself that he would be unwilling to open up if Die asked. Maybe Die <em>was</em> different, in exactly the way he didn’t want to be.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He thought again of how Kyo had invited another crew member over to talk to Die while he did his makeup, and wondered how he should interpret the action. On the one hand, it had stuck Die as being incredibly generous; that even though he wasn’t able personally to allay Die’s anxiety with conversation, he was willing to recruit someone else to do so. Then again, had Kyo just been shoving Die off on someone else because the thought of speaking to him was so intolerable?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die… <em>Die</em>, everything okay?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was Kaoru’s voice, and Die blinked a few times, registering just how badly he’d been spacing out.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hurriedly apologized for his lapse in concentration, but Kaoru laughed it off, and snapped a few more shots before calling for another break so Die could change into a new outfit.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo strode over to Die in wardrobe and made a few adjustments to his makeup to better complement the next look. He did it so subtly and efficiently that Die didn’t totally realize what he’d changed until he caught sight of himself in the mirror.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Wha—How did you even do that? You barely even touched my face!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “I’ve had a lot of practice.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was starting to feel like he had seriously underestimated Kyo’s talent. “Is there anything you <em>can’t</em> do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well. I can’t hula-hoop for shit,” Kyo said drily.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die didn’t try to stop the laugh that bubbled out of him, and he felt his heart growing lighter as Kyo smiled in response.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “In all seriousness, though,” Kyo said, and wet his lips. “Makeup’s not that hard. Don’t you do it a lot yourself?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, but... I mean, nothing like <em>this</em>. You're an artist.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo smiled again, and it was small but genuine, and Die never wanted it to end. “This is a lot more than I usually get to do, too,” Kyo said. “I’m just on hair most of the time these days, so having an outlet like this is actually really fun. I guess I should thank you, for recommending me for this."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank <em>you</em> for agreeing to it,” Die said. “We couldn’t have gotten anyone better.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die carried Kyo's smile with him as he walked back out onto the set, feeling like he’d been given a precious gift, having had it directed at him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The last part of the shoot passed without any trouble. Die was, by some miracle, able to maintain his concentration, even though some part of his mind was occupied with the concern that Kyo might leave before he finished, since his work was pretty much over with.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wondered whether it would be too forward to ask Kyo to hang out sometime. Maybe they could just get lunch together, forge some kind of friendship out of a handful of shared interests and a couple incidental experiences working together. It wouldn’t be unheard-of, would it?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To Die’s immense relief, Kyo was still standing there watching, even as the photoshoot came to an end. He wasn’t chatting with anyone anymore, just observing, his arms crossed over his chest, and Die could pretend in his fantasy-brain that Kyo was there to watch <em>him</em>, and not just the overall process.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was once more a smile on Kyo’s face though when they wrapped, and, as they returned to the hair and makeup area where Die's street clothes were awaiting him, he congratulated Die on a job well done.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re good,” Kyo stated, standing by as Die cleaned the makeup off himself. “It was fun to watch you work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I enjoy your work, too,” Die said. He took his street clothes behind the humble modesty screen in the corner, and set to changing. “Where did you learn to do all that makeup, anyway?” he asked, peering at Kyo over the screen that only came up to his neck. “Is it something you do on the side, or…?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wrinkled his nose, pausing in cleaning up his own materials. “I guess I got into it years ago, back when I was a dancer. Haven’t had as much use for it recently, but at the time, half the guys would flock to me for help with their makeup.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Huh!” Die said, utterly failing to hide his surprise. “I didn’t know you danced.” It shouldn’t have been surprising that Kyo would have a performance background, and obviously, there were many things Die didn’t know about him, but it still wasn’t something he would have guessed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He cocked his head, studying Kyo, trying to guess what style of dance Kyo specialized in. Hip-hop? Ballet? It was hard to tell from how Kyo generally dressed, but he could have had the build for it. He was lean, but he was certainly stronger than one would tell at first glance. So many tattoos would probably have been frowned upon in most schools, but he could have gotten those more recently…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo evidently noticed the way Die was looking at him, because he smirked and shook his head. “<em>Exotic</em> dancer.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s mouth dropped open, and he had to have misheard Kyo, but his throat was all full of cotton and he couldn’t ask him to repeat himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It was a decent way to make money, for a couple years,” Kyo said carelessly. “I don’t think I ever could’ve headlined or anything, though. Maybe ‘cause I’m not the tallest.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With tremendous effort, Die got his brain to reboot, and quipped, “178 cm. I can tell you’re wondering.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo laughed. “I was, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Tall enough for modeling, though I’m definitely on the short side when I do international work,” Die said. “But, ah, I’ve never danced. Like that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I wouldn’t think so.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> This was good. It was casual, almost flirting, it was Die’s comfort zone. He was glad to be able to talk like this from behind the modesty screen, where his body’s reaction to the very concept of Kyo as an exotic dancer wasn’t fully on display, and he could pretend like he was unaffected by this revelation.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo seemed truly unperturbed. Die supposed if that was really just a part of his history, maybe it wasn’t a big deal to him. And perhaps he honestly didn’t didn’t spare a thought for what such information did to Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With a glance at his phone, Kyo picked up the last of his things from in front of the mirror. “As long as you don’t need anything else, I’m going to say goodbye to Kaoru-san and head out.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, of course,” Die said. He’d finished changing, but he didn’t dare come out from behind the screen and risk making things uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “See you at your next hair maintenance?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded and waved. “Otsukaresama deshita!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo waved back, and took off, leaving Die feeling confused and more aroused than he wanted to admit. He just had to not think about it. It would never do for him to be distracted with thoughts of Kyo as a <em>dancer</em>, smirking at a captivated audience as he swayed his hips, and—that <em>liar</em>, he was probably a fantastic hula-hooper, too, if he had a background in that kind of dance!</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And Die was failing at not thinking about it, but it was virtually impossible, to not picture Kyo, his face made-up and his dark eyes hooded as he displayed himself on a stage. What did he wear when he performed? How much did he take off? Die had never seen him less than fully dressed, but he could tell there was some impressive musculature hidden under his clothes, and he’d seen the tattoos peeking out of his sleeves and collar. How much of his skin was covered in ink and designs?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The thought made Die shiver. He wanted to see it. He wanted to see <em>all</em> of Kyo, wanted him to reveal himself physically as well as emotionally, and fine, maybe he no longer stood even a<em> chance</em> of denying that he’d developed a full-blown crush on the moody little hair stylist, but he felt like it had been utterly out of his control to prevent it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was another few minutes before Die calmed down enough to finish cleaning up and leave, and it was really more difficult than it should have been to keep Kyo off his mind during that time. Even if he wasn't imagining him kneeling under the lights with his thighs spread wide, scraps of shiny vinyl clinging to his body, Die was caught up in thoughts of Kyo’s laugh, his eyes when he smiled, the gentleness of his hands in Die’s hair.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was in big trouble, but instead of acknowledging that, all he could think was how much he was looking forward to his next hair appointment.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">
    <b>[Toto]: </b>
    <em>Man, sure was dead at the salon today without your usual crowd lol. How was your day?</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was a rather poor attempt at subtlety as far as Kyo was concerned, and he considered just ignoring it altogether. If Toshiya wanted to know how the photoshoot had gone, he could ask him outright; it wasn’t Kyo’s job to fill in the blanks.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>My day was fine. A little humid.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He set the phone aside as he went back to preparing his dinner of instant noodles and hard-boiled eggs.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t exactly that he was unwilling to talk about the shoot. Truly, he’d enjoyed himself and he wasn’t ashamed to say so, but he wasn’t down for participating in communication games, when Toshiya was perfectly capable of just asking Kyo what he wanted to know.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had spent no shortage of time since arriving home reflecting on how the day had gone himself, breaking his own rule of leaving work at work. The photoshoot was too different to follow the same guidelines as his everyday job, and required far more analysis. It had been difficult to have real expectations for it, but it was fair to say that reality had been somewhat outside of anything he might have imagined.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For one thing, he’d had access to a world that wasn’t usually in his grasp, creating something that would be seen by countless people, participating in a vision he could respect, and actually feeling appreciated for his work. No one at the shoot had seen or treated him as an outsider, and it was sort of a shock to his system to feel so accepted and recognized.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It had stirred feelings in him that he hadn’t felt in a while, made him wonder if he oughtn’t pursue try to pursue something more, reach above himself for dreams that never seemed attainable.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Furthermore, he had to admit that Die wasn’t a total background figure in that whole experience. Working with him had been kind of… enjoyable. And his personality wasn’t nearly as grating when it was softened by the people around him. Plus, he was honestly a fine model. Kyo had liked seeing him work, had been intrigued by how dramatically he could transform himself—not just with styling and clothes, but his demeanor, his character—for the camera. Kyo wouldn’t mind observing his work again in the future.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The vibrations of his phone were too much anticipated to be startling, and Kyo glanced at the new message alert with a sigh before unlocking his screen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[Toto]: </b><em>Humid? Really?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[Toto]: </b><em>What, do I have to beg for tidbits about what it was like working with the big-shots?</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>V professional, good snacks</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo could practically feel Toshiya’s frustration radiating through the phone as the dots indicating he was typing appeared and disappeared a few times.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[Toto]: </b><em>If you really don’t wanna talk about it, fine. I just wondered whether Die was a dick or if he was better.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There it was. Kyo had known of course that that was where Toshiya’s curiosity lay, but seeing it stated so plainly made a response tricky. If he ignored it, it seemed to suggest that Die <em>was</em> a dick, which wasn’t really fair, but there was such inherent danger in giving Toshiya what he wanted, letting him get excited that things had gone <em>well</em>. He would read into it, take it too far, and then Kyo would just resent Die that much more all over again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He waited until his dinner was totally finished cooking before he typed out a proper reply.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Die’s not a dick. I don’t wanna hear you gloating, but I like him more than I thought. He’s good at what he does and he’s cool with the crew.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Knowing it would only provoke more questions, he reluctantly added,</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>I liked talking to him, too, he’s funny.</em>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> From there, all Kyo could do was await Toshiya’s over-enthusiastic text back, most likely involving too many exclamation points and/or too many emoji. He braced himself for it, but there was nothing for a long while. Then, finally,</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[Toto]:</b><em> I’m glad to hear that. I hope you can work with him again.</em></span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It showed so much restraint that Kyo honestly wondered whether he’d had someone else write it for him, but in any case, Kyo appreciated him not making a big deal.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Because it wasn’t a big deal. Kyo thinking Die was <em>decent</em> didn’t mean anything more than that. He would have been fine with working with him again in the future, but that wasn’t saying all that much. There were lots of people Kyo would have liked to work with in the future.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration, but it wasn’t like Die was the only tolerable person he’d ever met.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Strangely though, the more he got to know Die, the more Kyo felt there was something just a little bit <em>different</em> about him. In many ways, sure, he was the same as any jerk Kyo worked with, but there were moments were Kyo found him to be… somehow more genuine, less self-absorbed, even than he expected when he first met him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Something in that smile, so open and easy, that giggle, too embarrassing to be faked, made Kyo… <em>okay</em> with Die. When he imagined his presence it didn’t seem oppressive or irritating. Kyo didn’t think he really <em>minded</em> Die being around him, and that was no insignificant fact.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In addition, although it had bothered Kyo at first, he was starting to not hate the way that Die continued to show actual, heartfelt interest in Kyo and what he said and did. Most people, when they asked Kyo about himself, were making smalltalk, being polite; when Die asked him something, Kyo could tell he was honestly curious, that he cared about the answer Kyo gave. And when Kyo shared another tiny piece of himself, let that scrap of truth show, and Die looked at him with warm, focused eyes, Kyo felt <em>seen</em>, felt <em>known</em>. It was sort of frightening, but there was a thrill that came with it, too, and Kyo wouldn’t mind Die learning a little bit more about him, gradually.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But it wasn’t necessary to tell Toshiya any of that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> No, hearing Kyo’s reflections would only lead to Toshiya’s further speculations, and that wasn’t doing anyone any favors, so Kyo kept the majority of these thoughts to himself, even when he came back to the salon and saw Toshiya in person.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The truth was there was enough for them to focus on at work without the extra gossip. The salon’s owners were already there when Kyo arrived Monday morning, standing around with their hands on their hips, like they were sizing up the employees, the space.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo tried to brush right past them, only briefly catching Toshiya’s eye on his way to his station. If they wanted to come and talk to him, they could, but otherwise he’d fare better if he just ignored them. He watched surreptitiously as Toshiya spoke with them, but he couldn’t overhear anything significant about their conversation. He grew more and more irritated with their presence as he prepped for the day. What was their deal, showing up like this, distracting employees from their actual jobs? Was it some kind of intimidation tactic? They already had security cameras all over the place, that wasn't enough? He was only too relieved when they finally took off, waving and calling out their overly cheerful goodbyes to everyone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Although he waited, Toshiya never came over to tell Kyo what the owners had discussed with him, and Kyo didn't feel right pressing him for information. Their mere presence had most likely been stressful enough, and as customers started pouring in, everyone's attention was diverted back to the work at hand. The truth was, the salon got on better without the owners coming and mucking things up. The staff could handle everything just fine without their meddling, including the higher traffic they'd been seeing lately—not that the owners had actually offered any assistance. Once the buzz from their visit died down, the stylists still had their hands full with another deluge of new clients, many of whom were requesting Kyo by name. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He was torn between mild annoyance and confusion.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You get why they’re all here, don’t you?” Toshiya said to him when he voiced his complaints later that week. “It’s the same people who’ve been coming in the past few weeks, there’s just <em>more</em> of them now. Haven’t they talked to you at all?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo gave him a look.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, okay,” Toshiya said. “Right, I forgot about your whole shutting-down-conversations-before-they-start thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What’s your point?” Kyo leaned against the front counter. There were no more appointments today and he was just waiting for Toshiya to finish closing up so they could go grab dinner together. “They’ve been talking to you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve had no fewer than <em>nine</em> new clients this week <em>alone</em> tell me they’re here because they heard about us from Shinya’s video.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was. “You mean…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The one with Die,” Toshiya clarified. “These people are <em>fans</em> of Die and his modeling career, and they’re coming to us because he vouched for us. He is personally responsible for nearly doubling our business.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo rolled his eyes. “Let’s not exaggerate.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Your</em> clientele, at least,” Toshiya amended.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “They’ve told you this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “They’re all asking about him,” Toshiya said as he shut down his tablet and stored it in the locked drawer under the counter. “They want to know if he talks to me, which magazines he reads while he’s waiting, what chair he sits in…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sounds like a bunch of obsessed weirdos.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t be judgy,” Toshiya scolded him. “Sometimes it’s good to have a hobby.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I have hobbies,” Kyo said. “People aren’t hobbies.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “They can be," Toshiya said. “And having seen one or two of <em>your</em> hobbies, I don’t think you get to decide what does and doesn’t qualify.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What’s that supposed to mean!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It just means we probably all owe Die some gratitude for getting our name out there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wasn’t sure how he felt about this trend of having to be so grateful for all the work Die was getting him. He did appreciate it, but he didn’t want to rely on Die for that kind of thing, and some part of him resented the possible (but totally unspoken) implication that Kyo wasn’t just <em>fine</em> finding work without Die’s help.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is it too many clients?” Toshiya asked, perhaps misinterpreting Kyo’s frown. “It’s just because they’re asking for you specifically, but if you feel overwhelmed, I can definitely send more to Masaki or Haru…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head. He didn’t really think about numbers like that. It was always just work, and yes, it took up a lot of his time, but once he was doing it it rarely felt like too much; he just did what was in front of him, stopped when he was finished, and whether there were a lot of appointments in a day or a few wasn’t something he particularly registered.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe some of these new people will end up being regulars, ones you really like—and don’t try to say you never like anyone because I know how you feel about Shinya.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn't try to argue with that. He did like Shinya. In fact, Toshiya thought they ought to be grateful to Die, but it was Kyo’s respect for Shinya that had really started the ball rolling. If Die hadn’t dropped his name at that first appointment, they never would have gotten started.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was still strange for Kyo to think of the two of them being close friends. Shinya was sweet and quiet and knowledgable, while Die was… awkward, overly friendly with <em>everyone</em>, and laughed too much, and seemed to make a fool of himself every other time he opened his mouth.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe they balanced each other out.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was more aware when he went into the salon the next day, his eyes wandering over unfamiliar appointees, trying to determine which ones were there as fans of Die.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His second appointment of the day definitely fit the demographic. She was young and nervous, glancing around like she was looking for something, and she asked to have her hair dyed a shade conspicuously similar to what Kyo had come to understand was Die’s trademark red.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She seemed too intimidated to be excessively chatty, thankfully, and Kyo doubted he would have noticed her telltale behavior if he hadn’t been on the lookout for it. He still might have made it through the interaction without any mention of Die’s name if he hadn’t gotten fed up with her and snapped, the sixth time she twisted in her chair to look over her shoulder around the salon. That kind of thing got in the way of his work and he couldn’t ignore it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You realize he’s not gonna be here, right?” he said impatiently.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The girl looked at him in shock, as if she couldn’t believe he’d noticed her craning her neck to look around.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If he was here, you wouldn’t be,” Kyo explained. “You scheduled an appointment with <em>me</em>, specifically, and he always does, too, schedules them way in advance. There’s basically no chance of you being here at the same time.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t—“ she started, but broke off, shame-faced. “So then… you really are the one who does Die-san’s hair?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged, tried to keep his focus on distributing the color evenly throughout her hair. “At least recently.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And? What’s he like? Do you talk to him?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not really,” Kyo said. “He comes for hair maintenance, not conversation.” It wasn’t the whole truth, but Kyo definitely didn’t feel like he owed this girl any more than that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Anyway, she still seemed weirdly impressed and excited by the bare minimum of information. She spent the rest of the session busily texting, and Kyo was just relieved that she was holding her head still.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After that, Kyo couldn’t <em>help</em> but notice all the indications that people were there Die-hunting. He found it oddly distracting to have that awareness, found himself wondering what exactly these fans hoped to see, or just what it was about him that had them all so infatuated. Were they all simply interested in his modeling career and good looks, or was there more depth to it that Kyo wasn’t privy to?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> From Kyo’s perspective, there was really nothing at the salon for these people to see. They took it as a <em>landmark</em> of some significance, since Die had mentioned it by name, but really he’d only set foot in the place a handful of times, and no one there was remotely <em>close</em> to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The one who had spent the most time with him was Kyo, and they were practically still strangers. He couldn’t imagine how there was anything for these people at the salon that would make it worth the trip, unless they’d really just wanted a recommendation for a new hairdresser.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t all bad, for Kyo. His solid schedule meant he spent less time hanging around being bored, and <em>some</em> of the new clients were looking for fun new hairstyles. He was busy and entertained, and there wasn’t a lot else he could ask for.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The only trouble was that all the fans made it more or less impossible for Kyo to get through a single day without thinking about Die, and while he didn’t <em>hate</em> thinking about him, it was strange and uncomfortable to have his mind forced back to the subject over and over, with no strong feelings or opinions to center around.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He would just <em>think about</em> Die, about his work or his jokes or, usually, his hair. He would think of every single thing he knew about Die, details he didn’t think were his to share with any random fangirl in his chair. And he would wonder how much he <em>didn’t</em> know. Surely, many of the people coming in with questions were better-versed in Die Trivia than Kyo was. Kyo had no idea about Die’s family, how he’d gotten started modeling, what his relationships were like. The more obscure questions he received (even if they weren’t occurring every day), the more Kyo was required to acknowledge just how little information he had.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t even information he cared about, but just the fact that he was ignorant had Kyo coming back to the same questions again and again, <em>wondering</em>, as if <em>he</em> were the curious one, instead of some proxy for all these obsessed fans.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was a while until his next appointment with Die, and he had no reason to see him before then, but still Kyo found himself wondering, was Die thinking about him, too?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, y'all been catchin' the audio livestreams? I find them very exciting, and I can't wait to see the rest of the members' picks. The boys are good to us.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Die had not been keeping his chill. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hadn’t seen or spoken to Kyo since the photoshoot, but that hadn’t at all stopped his thoughts from centering around him constantly. Most of the time they weren’t even anything concrete, just images and musings and some lingering desire.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t exclusively sexual desire (though admittedly there was some of that, too); sometimes it was just desire to see, to touch, to <em>know</em>, and it was different from how Die usually felt about people. Sure, he was attracted to people, <em>interested</em> in them all the time, but never so… fascinated.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was checking his calendar on his phone with shameful frequency, as if that would make his hair appointment with Kyo come sooner. Nothing changed, but he would take it out and look at it multiple times a day, just to see how much longer he had to wait before he could talk to him, see his face again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was fear, too, that something would happen to prevent their next meeting. What if Die had to work and needed to push it back? Or what if Kyo caught a cold, and they moved Die’s appointment to another stylist for his convenience? He didn’t think they’d actually make a decision like that without consulting him first, but it was still a worry that showed up in Die’s thoughts pretty regularly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d thought of the potential solution that he could actually ask for a <em>sooner</em> appointment. If he wanted to make a more drastic change to his hair—a real change in length or color—he could argue that he needed it done right away instead of waiting the standard amount of time to maintain his hair as it was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Luckily he wasn’t so far gone that he followed through on that. His manager would have killed him; everyone knew that Die’s hair was carrying his career more than all the rest of him together.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> No alternate solutions for speeding up the passage of time had yet made themselves apparent, and so Die was resigned to wait, albeit impatiently, for their next scheduled meeting.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Life went on. Die had preliminary business lunches to discuss some commercial he was supposed to shoot for a cell phone company, and he was getting ready to travel abroad for a runway show in Milan the following month. There was no shortage of items for Die to divert his attention to, but Kyo always wormed his way back into his brain.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And no one else caught Die’s eye. Maybe that was the strangest part of it all. Die’s everyday existence brought him in contact with countless beautiful people, but for once, Die wasn’t looking at any of them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya brought it up as they lounged on the couch at Die’s townhouse, Die’s legs across Shinya’s lap, the <em>movie</em> part of their Friday movie-and-drinks night having ended.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you see the new ads they’re running for XPRESSIONS, the underwear? I thought of you when I saw it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die gave an inquisitive but distracted hum, not really sure which ads Shinya was talking about.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t seen it?” He had his phone out in no time, was searching something on it as he spoke. “It’s Yamazaki, but he’s done something really different with his hair.” He turned his phone to show Die.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Leaning forward, Die peered at the underwear ad Shinya had pulled up on his phone, and nodded. It was indeed Yamazaki, a model Die had worked with in the past. His hair had been longer back then.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Isn’t he your type?” Shinya said, a note of suspicion in his voice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shrugged. “Yeah, he’s fine.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That had Shinya sitting up straight, looking at Die with narrowed eyes. “<em>Fine</em>? Die, I have listened to you rant at me for a full <em>hour</em> about the shape of his face. I have suffered through excruciating drunken detail all the ways in which you’d like to examine his various muscle groups. You’re telling me now you’re not even excited to see him in this kind of ad?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die squirmed uneasily in his seat, pulled his legs back to his own side of the couch. He should have monitored his responses to Shinya’s questions better, so he didn’t give anything away. If he hadn’t been tipsy from an evening spent drinking he would have been more careful with what he said. As it was, he just muttered, “I haven’t really been thinking about people like that lately.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya seemed further perplexed. “What, at all? Since when? It’s always someone with you—usually more than one.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t untrue, and Die hardly had a good answer for him. “I don’t know, just recently. I haven’t been noticing anyone.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Okay, that part was a little less true. Really he’d been noticing one particular person a hell of a lot, and it hadn’t left any room for anyone else. It was strange. Even in the past, when Die had gotten very attached to someone, it hadn’t blinded him to the attractiveness of everyone else. His wandering eye had been the cause of failure in more than one of his relationships, but now, when Die was confronted with a good-looking individual, he was just reminded of Kyo, and how deeply-rooted Die’s attraction to him was. He saw a cute guy in his underwear and immediately wondered how Kyo would look in those underwear instead, what style and brand he usually wore, and whether Die would ever get an opportunity to see it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya was no fool, and trying to put something past him rarely met with success, so it was no surprise when he said, “This wouldn’t have anything to do with <em>Kyo</em>, would it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> What could Die say? He was inebriated and his brain was still stuck on Kyo-in-his-underwear. He nodded miserably.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That distinctly smug look came back onto Shinya’s face. “Well, well, are we finally finished denying your feelings for him, then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die slumped back on the couch. “It’s not <em>fair</em>. I didn’t <em>want</em> to like him. How did you even know?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I simply know you better than you know yourself,” Shinya stated. “Was there anything that brought on your change in acceptance, or you just got tired of lying to yourself?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe both?” Die looked around for his beer, set aside on the end table long ago, and picked it up so he had something to hold. “Working with him at the shoot… I got to know him better. And <em>fine</em>, maybe I’d already liked him before that, but now I can’t stop fucking thinking about him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You were able to talk to him more?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess,” Die said. “He was. Nice to me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And that was a surprise?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Honestly, yeah, kind of,” Die said. He traced the logo on his beer bottle with his thumb. “Whenever we’d talked before, he was so… rough around the edges. I thought it was just his personality, to be kind of an ass. But.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You got to see a different side of him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. “I got anxious before the shoot, and he went out of his way to give me what I said I needed to keep calm. In this totally non-performative way. I didn’t expect that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m glad he was there for you,” Shinya said. “I’d forgotten how anxious you get in those situations. You do it all time, and it hasn’t gotten any easier?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It has,” Die said. “It’s not every single time. Sometimes it’s just nerves and it passes. Other times I’m on the verge of panic. It just depends.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It doesn’t shock me that Kyo would take it in stride,” Shinya said. “I don’t know him all that personally, but he’s always been so strong, and compassion is certainly a form of strength.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And his ridiculous fucking muscles are another form of strength,” Die mumbled.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya gave him a look. “Please don’t make me sit through this again.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, no, no I’m not,” Die said hurriedly. He choked out an awkward laugh. “How could I? I haven’t even seen his muscles, I can just tell they’re there.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya held up a hand. “Maybe we can change the subject a bit.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “To what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, you haven’t told me much about the shoot itself. I’d been wondering why, but now I see that you’ve been preoccupied. It was a success, though? No professional issues?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die took a drink from his beer, though he really didn’t need to. “It was great. Kyo’s work was awesome, Kaoru didn’t have any complaints. Everyone seemed happy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Including you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, sure, I was happy <em>then</em>,” Die said petulantly. “Everything just sucks now ‘cause I have to wait so long till my hair maintenance so I can see Kyo again.” He wriggled around, trying to get his phone out of his pocket so he could show Shinya the damned calendar, but realized after thirty long seconds of struggling that the device was resting on the arm of the couch next to him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If you hate waiting that much, why don’t you try to see him sooner?” Shinya suggested, like Die was being very stupid for not having thought of that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But Die <em>had</em> thought of it, and he waved his phone at Shinya as if it would illustrate his point. “Like it never crossed my mind? I <em>thought</em> about it, ‘oh, maybe I could go in sooner, get a new hairstyle, a—fuckin’… bob or whatever the fuck you’d call what you’ve got goin’ on there—’” he gestured toward Shinya’s hair—“but I’ve got my <em>career</em> to think of—no offense—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya closed his eyes and shook his head, effectively cutting Die off. “That’s not what I meant. I never said anything about changing your hair.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die stared blankly at him. Was that not what Shinya had just implied? Was he more drunk than he thought, so he was hearing things that weren’t real?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I said, try to <em>see him</em> sooner,” Shinya said. “As in, <em>ask</em> him to spend time with you, socially.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s mouth hung open. Shinya was a <em>genius</em>. Was that really something he could do? Was it truly possible to see Kyo outside of work?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Fumbling with his phone, Die stammered, “Sure—Sure, I mean, yeah, that’s—Do you think—? How?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You have his number, don’t you? I know I gave it to you before.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die had to concentrate for a few seconds. “Yes. You told me I… wasn’t allowed to contact him for social purposes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya pursed his lips. “Hmm, I did say that, didn’t I?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s shoulders slumped again. “So I just have to wait.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, now hold on,” Shinya said. “What are you going to say, if you do text him? Word for word.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Umm...” Die closed one eye as he tried to structure his sentences. He was sure Shinya was deliberately making things difficult for him when he was less than sober. “Like, ‘Hey, this is Die… I was wondering if you had time to get coffee next weekend?’ Or something?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya nodded briefly. “I think that sounds all right.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You think that would be okay to send him??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not like you’re sending unsolicited… intimate photos,” Shinya said reasonably. “It’s not even pressuring him into some <em>romantic</em> setting. It leaves him room to decline, to say no, he doesn’t have time, and as long as you’re prepared to back off should you meet with resistance, I think it seems acceptable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was so excited he dropped his phone twice before Shinya took the beer bottle out of his other hand, and he managed to get his messaging app open. He couldn’t remember what he’d planned to write, so Shinya dictated it back to him, then generously proofread the message and fixed a few typos before he sent it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The phone remained silent, despite how Die spent the next several minutes staring at it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya placed a hand on his shoulder, saying gently, “You know he might not respond at all.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Of course Die did know that. It seemed petty in-line with his general understanding of Kyo’s personality, and he couldn’t even blame him for it, since he knew Kyo didn’t think he was anything special. He’d still like <em>some</em> acknowledgment though.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can’t just keep watching the phone like that,” Shinya admonished him. “Even if he does respond, we don’t know how long it’ll be. You’re going to make it worse for yourself if you sit there waiting for a text.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He <em>might </em>respond, though, right?” Die said, pulling his gaze from the unmoving device. “Eventually?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He might.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You wouldn’t have encouraged me to reach out if you thought it was a total impossibility.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “There’s no way of knowing something is impossible unless you’re willing to try,” Shinya said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die didn’t much like that answer. It was cryptic and indirect. “But you think <em>if</em> he replies, he’ll turn me down.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think it’s likely,” Shinya said quietly.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sighed. “What’s even the point then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Finding out for sure,” Shinya said. “Giving Kyo a chance to decide and state for himself whether he’s interested in a social relationship with you.” He tucked some hair behind his ear. “You know, he’s just got a lot of walls up. It’s not common for him to let anyone in past those, but that doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He told me he used to be an exotic dancer,” Die blurted out before he could think better of it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya’s eyes widened, then he blinked, his expression shifting back to neutral. “Was there some context for this?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hardly,” Die said. “No, I mean, there was. He said that was how he got into doing people’s makeup.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya nodded slowly. “I wasn’t aware, but I can’t claim to be surprised.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Really</em>?” Die squeaked. “I was <em>really</em>—I don’t think ‘surprised’ is quite a strong enough word for it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s a positive sign, though,” Shinya said. “That he would be willing to share something that personal with you, something he’s never discussed with me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It must’ve just not come up with you,” Die said. “I didn’t get the feeling it was something he saw as all that personal. He said it so casually he might have been saying he used to work at Starbucks.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That demonstrates trust,” Shinya said. “He felt safe enough to be casual and upfront with you. If he didn’t feel comfortable he would have evaded the question, or at least sugarcoated it, been euphemistic. If he’d even let the subject come up at all.” Shinya leaned back a little to look at Die thoughtfully. “Perhaps I underestimated your impact on him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That saddened Die. “Nice as it would be to think you’re right, I’m pretty sure you’re reading into things too much. There’s no impact. He’s told me himself several times that I’m just like all the other douchebags he works with.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya frowned, but didn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As if it had only been waiting for a lull in the conversation, Die’s phone suddenly vibrated, alerting him, to his astonishment, to a new message from Kyo.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shit,” Die said. “Shit, he wrote back. <em>Shinya</em>, he wrote back!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Already?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do I do?” Die still hadn’t unlocked his actual screen to read the text, his stomach too twisted with dread to want to see Kyo’s reply. “What do—I’m freaking out!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can see that,” Shinya said. “Well, what did he say?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know!” Die said, frantically shoving the phone toward Shinya. “Shit, I’m too scared, will you read it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya rolled his eyes but kindly took the device from him. That unusual look of surprise was back on his face a second later, and Die made a desperate noise.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why are you making that face? Is it bad??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He said, ‘sure.’”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die stared at him in disbelief. “He <em>what</em>?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He said sure, to getting coffee,” Shinya said, his wide eyes still on the screen. “He’s free Saturday afternoon, any time after three pm.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Let me see that,” Die said, and snatched the phone back. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Shinya, but it seemed likely that he was somehow misunderstanding Kyo’s response. Maybe was being sarcastic, and Shinya in all his pure-hearted goodness just couldn’t tell.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But as Die read Kyo’s message (and reread it), there really wasn’t anything there to be misinterpreted. Kyo had merely agreed to Die’s invitation.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hoooly moly,” Die said. He was feeling less tipsy and the full consequences of what he’d done were hitting him hard. “What did—What am I going to do?!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Take Kyo out for coffee, apparently.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But does—How are—? Huh??”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya shrugged. “You said you wanted to see him. Now you get to. I guess you’d better decide where exactly you’re going.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded, his mind already swimming with possibilities. Kyo was giving him this chance, to prove he wasn’t just another random asshole from work. Die could finally show Kyo that he <em>was</em> something special, that they could be something together—at least as friends.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Anything else might come later, but Die knew this was likely to be his only opportunity. He couldn’t screw it up.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's the last of the audio livestreams tonight. I can't wait to see what Kyo picks, but I'm kinda gonna miss having them to look forward to every night. What will I do at three am now??<br/>(ps this chapter starts talking maybe just briefly about some heavier stuff from Kyo's past, sex and relationships, etc, just in case you want to be prepared for that?)<br/>(pps I had a typo in the last chapter that actually really affects the story and I fixed it! It should have said Die wanted to hang out NEXT weekend, not THIS weekend (not literally the next day after he was getting drunk with Shinya!), that was my bad editing, sooo sorry, you have to wait a minute for their coffee date!!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">More hair dropped onto the floor at Kyo’s feet, and he barely registered it. His mind was a thousand kilometers away from what he was doing physically, and if he were worse at his job, his client might have suffered for it. As it was, he was able to get through the work on autopilot even totally distracted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d been neck-deep in regret ever since several days ago when, in some moment of temporary insanity, he’d accepted Die’s invitation to get coffee this coming weekend.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was no real explanation for that lapse in judgment, but there was also no way he could see to get out of it. He wasn’t going to be an asshole and cancel once plans had been made; he didn’t even have a proper excuse. He just should have been thinking more clearly when he agreed to it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He finished his last appointment of the day, and she thanked him, in spite of his lack of concentration. She might have been one of those Die fangirls, but honestly, Kyo wasn’t paying enough attention to notice.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He cleaned up his work station, still in a fugue, and collapsed in his chair, exhausted by his own circling brain. The salon was going to be closing soon, and he’d have to go home, but he didn’t feel much like getting up before then.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It had been a mistake to accept, obviously, just like so many things related to his knowing Die, and he could hardly believe that he’d done it. The invitation had just seemed so harmless, and maybe he'd been in some weird, softened mood, having Die on his mind at work so often. Die’s text had been the evidence he'd been waiting for: that Die was thinking about Kyo, too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Once he had the proof, Kyo wasn’t so sure he wanted it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After all, it probably went without saying that they were thinking about each other in different ways, and Kyo still had no idea what Die’s intentions were, what his expectations were. Almost definitely he was going to be disappointed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s other grand mistake had been telling Toshiya about the new development.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> On some level, he’d known that Toshiya would overreact, but maybe he hadn’t been prepared for the scale, for Toshiya literally grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him while jumping up and down and yelling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think you’re making too big a thing of it,” Kyo had told him, but even then he’d had a sinking feeling in his stomach, that Die might be misinterpreting the situation with some of the same enthusiasm that Toshiya was.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nearly every time Kyo had seen Toshiya since then (usually multiple times a day), he’d had to brace himself for more overexcited babbling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With the salon closing for the evening, tonight was no different, and Toshiya practically bounded over to him, asking, “Have you decided what you’re going to wear? If not, would you be interested in hearing some of my suggestions? You know those skinny jeans you have with the rips above the knees? I think—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, and no,” Kyo said, covering his face with his hands. “I haven’t put that much thought into it, and I really don’t intend to.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya paused. "I get that you keep saying it’s not that big a deal, but… I mean, come on, it’s the first date I’ve seen you go on in <em>years</em>, and it’s with an incredibly sexy male model who has Disney princess hair and a killer smile. How can you keep trying to downplay it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was frozen, unwilling to pull his hands away from his face.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Was that really what this was? A date?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d suspected that that might be what Die wanted, but it hadn’t been said outright, and Kyo had been holding out hope that it was just friendly, casual coffee, and didn’t mean more than that. Hearing Toshiya throw the word out there like it was the most obvious fact in the world had Kyo feeling sort of sick to his stomach.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kyo?" Toshiya’s voice was gentler than it had been a moment ago. “Hey, are you okay?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Reluctantly, Kyo dropped his hands, leaned his head back to look at the ceiling. “You really think that’s how he meant it then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was another pause before Toshiya said softly, “You didn’t know that it was a date?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I didn’t know what to think," Kyo admitted. "I shouldn’t have agreed to it in the first place, but it was just <em>coffee</em>…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And you don’t want it to be more than that. Just coffee.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo scrunched up his mouth as he thought about it. A “date” wasn’t necessarily the end of the world. He’d dated before, plenty of times, and it wasn’t exactly that it had been a horrible experience, it just didn’t do much for him. If they could keep things more platonic, it would be more comfortable for everyone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At length he said, “I just don’t want to lead him on, give him the wrong idea about where things are going between us.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s admirable,” Toshiya said. “You’re sure you don’t want things between you to go anywhere else?” Before Kyo could get defensive, Toshiya added, “I’m not suggesting that there’s anything <em>wrong</em> with wanting only friendship, or that you don’t know your own mind. I just want to be sure you’re not dismissing the notion automatically, without considering how you might feel about Die specifically as an individual.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was fair. Kyo didn’t generally experience attraction to anyone, but it <em>had</em> happened that he’d had feelings for someone before. He’d even been in love—it was just that it had been over six years ago and no one had particularly interested him since then.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, he was capable of it, and he couldn’t know how he might end up feeling about Die after they spent more time together. He just hated to think that he wouldn’t be able to give Die whatever it was that he wanted to come from them hanging out. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I will say this, though,” Toshiya said, as if he hadn’t already been saying things. “If you don’t want it to be a date, and you have restrictions as to what you’re comfortable with, you should tell him that from the get-go. Be upfront about your boundaries and you’ll save both of you a lot of awkwardness.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was good advice, and Kyo nodded, but he didn’t think it was quite as easy as that. “It’s hard to know what I’m comfortable with beforehand.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Just tell him the truth," Toshiya said. “If you don’t want things to move in a romantic or sexual direction, state that that isn’t your intention. I don’t think he’s the type to push anything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo could have argued that Toshiya really didn't know Die at all, and certainly not enough to know what <em>type</em> he was, but there was no point. Honestly, he also doubted Die would push anything. Based on how respectfully he’d interacted with everyone at the photoshoot, Die didn’t seem like one to cross lines once they were clearly set. Kyo just had to actually set them.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was sure he could do that easily enough. He was known for being direct, and unless Die was a grade-A asshole who was completely bullshitting about his motives he wouldn’t have any problem with that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Of course, Kyo had had his share of those experiences, too. It wasn’t anything new, the thought that someone might realize they couldn’t get the easy, cut-to-the-chase sex that they wanted from him, couldn’t fool around and have a good time, and might then get angry, say Kyo was being a slut and a tease, or do worse than just talk about it.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had learned his lesson with those possibilities a long time ago, and while he didn’t believe Die was such a person, he wasn’t blind to the danger.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There had been times, too, when Kyo had tried it. He’d done the casual sex thing with plenty of people, because it <em>was</em> easy. He’d felt in the past like he was <em>supposed</em> to pursue some kind of intimacy with others, and, although he didn’t get much out of it himself, he got some enjoyment from giving pleasure to a partner. It was satisfying in the detached, objective kind of way that he was accomplishing something. But none of his partners had given <em>him</em> an orgasm in longer than he’d kept track of.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was actually fine with that, though. He didn't want them to waste time and energy trying to bring him off, when he could much more easily do it himself. If they didn’t try, he wouldn’t disappoint them when they failed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It only really worked for one-night-stands. In a longer-term relationship, Kyo found people were easily frustrated by his apparent disinterest in anything sexual. Even if he was willing to sleep with them, to pleasure them, they were offended if he didn’t respond with appropriately reciprocal enthusiasm to their attempts, and it wasn’t something he could easily fake. This was a big part of why Kyo had more or less given up on relationships.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The whole thing was hard for Kyo to put into words. Someone like Toshiya, for example, had no concept of Kyo’s perspective and experiences with sex. To him, it just meant something different, and there was no way to fully explain how, while Kyo didn’t <em>dislike</em> sex, it just wasn’t important to him, and he couldn’t really satisfy someone to whom it was a fundamental part of a relationship. <em>Just tell him the truth</em>, Toshiya said. How was Kyo supposed to tell Die <em>that</em> truth?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, he appreciated how Toshiya was clearly trying to think of a way to protect both parties, and that he wasn’t blowing off Kyo’s uncertainty about the whole thing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’ll let me know how it goes?” Toshiya said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo raised an eyebrow. “If you mean texting you the minute I get home and relating the whole outing in intimate detail, then no, not a chance.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya pouted. "Fine. But if anything <em>important</em> happens…?"</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then you can find out about it when I see you here at work.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t want to maybe grab lunch or something on Sunday, just to talk it all over afterwards?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m pretty sure I’ll have used up all my social energy for the week on coffee with Die, sorry.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was clear that Toshiya wanted to argue more, but was holding himself back. After a moment he said, “What if <em>I</em> call <em>you</em>, to talk about <em>my</em> love life? I might need to vent to someone after my own date on Saturday.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> This was the first Kyo had heard of it, and usually Toshiya shared such information freely. “Do you have a date on Saturday?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I might.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you planning on going and <em>finding</em> a date for Saturday, just so you’ll have an excuse to call me and find out what happened with Die?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya pressed his lips together. “You know, I can easily get a date, anytime I want.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t doubt it,” Kyo said. He pushed himself up from his chair. “And I think you should! It would be great for you to go out with someone. Having your own romance to focus on might help you butt out of my—platonic coffee date.” He gathered his things and set to leave. “You don’t need help closing up, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya shook his head. He almost always closed up the salon himself, but with rumors still circulating about the fate of the salon (Kyo had heard whispers from <em>two</em> other hairdressers now), Kyo felt more inclined than ever to at least offer his assistance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was happy to head home, though, without any further delays. He had a lot to think about before his meeting up with Die, not the least of which was, apparently—what the hell was he going to wear?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope everyone's hangin' in there! My physical place of work is planning to reopen on Monday and I am very nervous and skeptical! I guess we'll see how that goes.<br/>Meanwhile here's my ever-present distraction~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Die was not blind to the fact that he was putting way too much thought into his coffee date with Kyo, but he couldn’t remember a time when any of it had mattered so much.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With Kyo, he felt like impressions were everything. At his first appointment, when he’d met Kyo, he’d given him the wrong idea, and this, their first time spending time together socially, could be Die’s chance to really remedy that, to change how Kyo thought of him, to be something <em>more</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At the same time, he had to be careful about coming on too strong. If he pushed too hard, <em>tried</em> too hard, Kyo would definitely be put off, and it could be pretty difficult to recover from that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, after going back and forth all week about how to approach the situation, he eventually opted to try and keep the whole thing <em>normal</em>. It was tempting to go all out and shower Kyo with romance, to present him with flowers and hold his hand, but he’d never forgive himself if he ended up scaring Kyo off. The better course of action was to let things happen organically, and see how they felt at the end of the evening.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They agreed to meet at the café, a modern but not overly crowded little place that Die liked, a little ways outside the main city, right by the wharf. He figured if things went all right they could walk along the waterfront, see the sunset, maybe do some shopping around the area. It wasn’t so heavy-handed with the romance as to be really forward, but it gave them a nice backdrop for whatever might happen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was worried about being late, and about finding parking, so he ended up arriving a good twenty minutes early, and then standing outside the café, fussing about whether he was overdressed. He rolled up the sleeves of his button-up shirt, and tried to look casual as he dicked around on his phone and waited.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Honestly, Kyo wasn’t even late. He showed up right on time, but Die was already so stressed out that, to him, it felt like he’d been waiting for hours, and finally seeing Kyo did little to alleviate his stress.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He looked fantastic, but also made it clear that Die <em>was</em> definitely overdressed, as he showed up in a long, loose t-shirt and ripped skinny jeans. Die wasn’t sure there was any combination of attire that Kyo would look <em>bad</em> in, but it made Die feel awkward and over-prepared in his button-up and slacks. He hoped Kyo would dismiss it as a byproduct of Die’s work.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t do much in the way of greeting, just waved a hand as he came to a stop in front of Die. “You weren’t waiting too long, I hope?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, no, no, not at all,” Die said, much too quickly to be cool. “I mean, I really <em>just</em> got here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was hard to tell whether Kyo believed him. He squinted off towards the sun, saying, "Look, I wanted to..." But then he paused, shook his head, and turned back to the café. “Should we go in, then?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah! Let’s go! Um, yeah.” Die rushed to hold the door, winced at the look Kyo gave him, and, two minutes into the date, was already wishing he had some kind of superpower to rewind time and not make an ass of himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked up at the drinks menu over the top of his glasses, arms crossed over his chest.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Have you been here before?” Die asked. He felt nervous, like he didn’t want to bother Kyo by asking such a stupid, unoriginal question, despite the fact that they were there to hang out together.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I haven’t,” Kyo said. “Do you have any recommendations?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, um, sure! Well—I don’t really know what you like,” Die said lamely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think I’ll just get an iced coffee.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, that’s—that’s good. They have great… iced coffee,” Die said. Jesus, why was he such a mess? Die was usually the <em>cool</em> one, calm and collected in front of a camera. If he didn’t start acting fucking <em>normal</em> he’d regret it forever.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He went to order drinks for the two of them while Kyo found them a table. It was a brief respite from his company, but Die hoped to use the few minutes to gather his wits and remember this was just casual, spending some time together. If he kept putting so much pressure on himself and the situation, there was no way it would end well.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It took him a minute to find the table where Kyo had set them up, in a back corner of the café, mostly secluded from the rest of the guests. Die brought the number on the stand that went with their order and set it on the edge of the table.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I figured you’d want somewhere out of the way,” Kyo said, before Die could even comment on his choice. “Since you’re kind of a celebrity and everything. It must be a pain to get recognized.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was actually pretty considerate. Particularly when he was out with guys, Die usually did try to keep a low profile, but somehow, with Kyo it hadn't even occurred to him that someone might see them, bother them. All Die had been thinking about was <em>Kyo</em>. He chuckled, slightly embarrassed. “I’m not as famous as all that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No? I’ve got your fans coming into the salon just about every day.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s jaw dropped. “Shit, you’re kidding. Oh, god, I’m so sorry, it’s ‘cause we shouted you out, and then I made a post hyping the video on my social media, I never—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head. “Don’t be sorry, it’s more business for us. It was… cool that you gave us a shoutout like that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m happy to do it anytime. I’ll tell everyone I meet how well you do my hair if it helps you out!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo made a face and Die thought he’d taken it too far, but then Kyo was laughing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t think that’s necessary,” he said. “But uh, nice offer.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Their drinks arrived then, and Kyo thanked the server politely, pulled his drink towards him to add cream and sugar.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, were you doing hair today?” Die asked, sipping at his own drink.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Actually, no,” Kyo said. “I had two cancellations in the morning, then I was just running errands the rest of the day. It was pretty boring. I’m afraid my life isn’t nearly as glamorous as yours must be.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, it’s far from glamorous most of the time,” Die laughed. “I’ve got crews of talented people like you <em>making</em> me look good.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m aware,” Kyo said with a smirk. “I guess I meant more the locations, the company you keep, that kind of thing is glamorous.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Glamorous company, in the modeling industry? You might be confused.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t you spend a lot of time with Shinya?” Kyo said. “I got the impression you two were pretty close.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die raised a finger, put it to his lips as he nodded. “You’ve got a point there. Shinya is glamorous.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Without even trying, right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Puts all us professional models to shame.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Have you tried to get him into the business?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, so I can lose all my gigs? I’m not an idiot.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo laughed again, and it felt like the most blessed validation Die had ever received.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How did you get started then?” Kyo asked. “Someone else was willing to make that sacrifice and recruited you, or was it what you always wanted to do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die tilted his head to the side, thinking. “I guess it’s what I wanted. Nothing else really appealed to me much when I was a kid. I hated studying, I wasn’t interested in business… I knew people who wanted to be CPAs or something, make good money. All I cared about was—not being the center of attention necessarily… But I liked the idea of <em>becoming</em> something, some<em>one</em> else.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And acting was the wrong direction?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can’t memorize all those words! Every time I have to do lines in a commercial I’m so stressed I can hardly get through it.” Die shrugged, turned his coffee cup around. “The only other thing I really considered becoming was a rockstar, but that’s not how it worked out.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, right, you ‘<em>considered</em>’ being a rockstar,” Kyo snorted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I did! I still play sometimes, I just never had the right band,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo chewed his lip, then, after a moment, said, "Me neither. I would have loved that, too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You thought about being in a band?” Die asked, interested. “What do you play?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I sing,” Kyo said causally. He leaned back in his chair, regarding Die. “I’d peg you as a bass—no. Guitarist.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die grinned. “Nailed it. We should have made a band together.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe in some alternate reality,” Kyo said. “I think these are the lives we have now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I have to admit,” Die said, “I wouldn’t have expected you to have dreams of being a rocker. You seem to so value your quiet and privacy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded. “But I love performing. Anything as a form of expression. That’s kind of how I got into dancing way back when, too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Once again the casual mention of Kyo's past as an exotic dancer had Die’s heart rate jumping. “Really?" he managed to ask.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The money was the main thing that attracted me, of course. Put me through cosmetology school, though that wasn't exactly my first choice either. I had a hard time planning for the future, always thought I wasn't going to end up living long enough for it to matter."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That struck Die as odd, sort of the opposite of the invincible mindset young people usually had. Had Kyo perhaps had some serious illness when he was younger, or just been an uncommonly fatalistic youth? He didn't press for more information, and Kyo didn’t elaborate, instead shifting the conversation back to Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You must have started really young,” he said. “To have reached the kind of level of fame and success you’ve got now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I was young,” Die agreed. “You’ve kind of got to be, in this industry. I mean, by now, I just passed thirty, my career is probably winding down. No one wants to pay extra to airbrush out all the wrinkles.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s expression turned dark and disapproving. “Stop that. Your skin is some of the most flawless I’ve ever worked on.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die raised his eyebrows, not having expected such a heartfelt compliment. “I—well, thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m just saying it as a fact,” Kyo said flatly. “If you would honestly lose work based on your age when you look the way you do, and when you have such obvious <em>talent</em> for modeling, that's just fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That might have been one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to Die, and he smiled down at his coffee. “That means a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo, perhaps embarrassed by what he’d said, went quiet, and they finished their drinks with only unsubstantial chatter about the café, the weather, Shinya’s YouTube channel.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was something of a surprise when Kyo leaned his chin on his palm and said, “What should we do now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You finished your coffee, right? Did you want to walk around?” Kyo nodded toward the outside. The sun was setting, and Die couldn’t see how they could avoid the romance of the given conditions, but if Kyo was suggesting it, he was all too happy to accept.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As they strolled out of the café, Die tried to take stock of how things were going. He felt happy and warm, and conversation was easier, more comfortable than he’d expected, but he couldn’t tell if he was making any Good Impression on Kyo. He was still there, walking with him, hadn’t cut their coffee date short, but his slightly tinted glasses made it hard to read his expression sometimes, and he felt distant. Die still knew so little about him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even the things Kyo had shared, Die hadn’t been able to get a good idea of his <em>feelings</em> about them. It was all matter-of-fact, spoken without much emotion, although Die didn’t believe for a moment that Kyo didn’t have strong opinions about just about everything he said and did.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He thought of Kyo’s career change, how he’d gone from baring himself onstage to working in relative silence and anonymity, living a modest life and revealing nothing of himself to his customers. Maybe he was happier with those walls up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you ever miss it?” Die wondered aloud, forgetting momentarily how Kyo hadn’t been listening in on his train of thought. “Dancing, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not most of the time,” Kyo said slowly. “I guess I do miss some of the freedom, planning my own costumes, makeup, choreography… I don’t miss the—ah, work environment.” He chuckled. “People are assholes, and <em>drunk</em> assholes are just even worse. Plus there’s the stigma. I used to get a <em>lot </em>of dirty looks when people asked what I did for a living.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You mean you’d just <em>tell</em> them?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, yeah,” Kyo said dubiously. “Why the fuck should I owe them some safe-for-work lie about my job when <em>they’re</em> the ones asking? I’m not ashamed. I was damn good at it, even if I didn’t get top billing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But if you know people are gonna be dicks about it, why even put yourself through that?” Die asked.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo just gave him a look like he couldn't understand the question. “I’m still not gonna lie about who I am, just so someone else feels comfortable.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe this was a point on which it would be difficult for them to understand each other, and Die tried to move on, saying, “At least people aren’t as hateful about the work you do now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Some people still are, I guess. ‘Blah blah women’s work’ and other gendered bullshit. I’m guessing you deal with your share of that, too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure," Die said, nodding. He’d had slurs flung at him more times than he could count, especially since his look was so androgynous. It was a good look for his work, but some people were bigots and they’d always have a problem with someone who existed outside the confines of what they imagined as the status quo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I do miss being onstage, in a way,” Kyo said. “Like you said, being someone else, and making that connection with an audience—then again, it wasn’t usually a connection I wanted to make.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die didn’t like to think of what unsavory types of people Kyo might have had to deal with in his dancing days. It was all too likely that Kyo had had perverts harassing him, propositioning him, maybe trying to follow him home. He was tempted to ask, but he thought the confirmation of his suspicions might make him too angry, and instead chose to change the subject to his own experiences.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “For me, it’s hard to know who I’m connecting with,” he said. “I get letters sometimes, people saying I inspired them, or they found their own inner beauty with my help—and that’s amazing, it makes everything worth it. But most of my work isn’t <em>live</em>, so I can’t really connect with actual people. I just try to connect with the camera and hope it translates.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think you’re very good at it,” Kyo said. “It can be a difficult thing to tell a story, just using your physicality like that, but you make it seem natural. I’m sure I would struggle without the energy of a live audience to feed off of.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boy, hearing him talk like that had far too great an effect on Die; he was all warm and beaming under the praise, but he tried to laugh it off. “If I seem natural, it’s only because I’ve been doing it so long.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then it’s expertise that <em>you’ve</em> cultivated,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you," Die said. He had to be blushing, he was so sure, but the light was dimming as the sun set, so there was still a slim chance Kyo hadn’t noticed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You do live modeling, too, sometimes?" Kyo said. “For example, runway shows, I dunno, performance art installations?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. "On occasion. Actually I have a show in Milan at the end of next month, so I’m looking forward to that."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s eyebrows rose. "Do you have to go abroad a lot?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "More like <em>get</em> to," Die said. "But not probably more often than most salarymen with business trips and everything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I've never been anywhere," Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Where would you want to go?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged, his thumbs hooked in his jeans pockets. “There’s nowhere I really want to go, that must be part of why I haven't been. I mean, I'd like to go somewhere to get a tattoo maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Because you don't have enough already?” Die teased.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “There are still a few areas that could do with some decorating."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die tried not to think too hard about which areas those were.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I would like to go to Hawaii,” Kyo said. “They’ve got those fucking chocolate-covered macadamia nuts? Those are—I’m addicted, honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die started laughing. “Really? Addicted to nuts?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Have you not had them? They’re so good,” Kyo said. “Haru at the salon brought them back as omiyage once and I got completely hooked. Now anytime anyone goes to Hawaii, I beg them to bring me back some and I have to ration them so they’re not all gone in one day.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Guess I know what to get you for your next birthday.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t even joke about that,” Kyo said, his eyes wide and hopeful behind his glasses.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was still laughing. “I will keep it in mind, not joking. It’s good information to have! When is your birthday?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo gave him a look. “You really think you’ll still know me by the time my next birthday rolls around?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I’ll still need someone to do my hair, won’t I?” Die nudged Kyo with his shoulder. “Seriously though. I really hope that we’re still friends by your next birthday, even if that’s a year from yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The corner of Kyo’s mouth curved up, shy and tentative. Then he said, “It actually is.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die stopped in his tracks. “Wait, what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “My birthday. It was yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Holy shit, what! Why didn’t you say something?!” Die was stunned. Was this something he had known and completely spaced on? What kind of ass invited someone out the day after their birthday and didn’t even <em>know</em> about it? “Jesus, we have to—we should—why… why are you laughing so hard..."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was nearly doubled over with laughter. “I’m sorry, I’m just fucking with you. It was too easy. You take things so seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That wasn’t the feedback Die was used to receiving and it startled a laugh out of him, too. “I—what the hell, man, that was a dick move, I thought I’d really fucked up.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know, I know." Kyo bit his lip, clearly still fighting a smile. “I apologize. My birthday is in February.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, sure, but you can kiss those macadamia nuts goodbye after what you just pulled.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nooo!” Kyo cried, and his expression was so pitiful Die could hardly even pretend to stay annoyed with him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmph. You're lucky I like you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was hard to say what else they talked about, the topics weaving in and out of one another as they moseyed along the waterfront. Die could hardly keep track of it, but Kyo never shut down, never pushed him away. To Die’s relief, Kyo really seemed to be having as good a time as he was himself, laughing often, and sharing more and more of his personality, making Die like him more and more as the evening went on.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When the sun had fully set, they found themselves leaning against the railing of a bridge, looking out at the water, with nothing existing outside of them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It wasn’t what my parents wanted for me,” Die was saying of his modeling career. “Maybe that’s obvious. My father would have liked for me to go into business, settle down with a steady, well-paying job and a family. I guess I’m a disappointment to him in more ways than one.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re successful,” Kyo pointed out softly. “And following your dream. Surely your family can respect that. Your ambition, if nothing else.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure, my mom thinks it’s pretty sweet that she can open up a magazine and show me off to her friends,” Die said, and folded his arms to rest on the wooden railing. “And my siblings enjoy the perks, tickets to special events, that kind of thing. I’m still the Black Sheep of the family.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm. I can relate.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die paused guiltily. He wasn't looking at Kyo, but he was standing <em>close</em>, their shoulders almost touching for no reason at all, and he could <em>feel</em> waves of resentment rolling off of him. Here Die was, going on about his family as if he had real problems, when he knew, all things considered, he had it better than many. He was surely being insensitive, when he knew nothing about Kyo’s relationship with his family at all. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry. It’s not—I don’t even dislike my folks,” he said, sneaking a glance at Kyo. “I know how lucky I am to have a family that is as tolerant as they are. They haven’t cast me out or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded, but he was still looking out over the water, not at Die, and there was the distinct feeling that things had gotten uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Before Die could open his mouth to apologize further, Kyo said, “Do you see that? It looks like lightning.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die followed his gaze, and sure enough, in the distance on the sea, there were intermittent flashes of lightning. A storm close enough to watch, but not to affect them. Instinctively, Die shifted one arm to rest a hand over his stomach, covering his bellybutton even though it was already covered by his shirt, and no thunder could be heard. They watched in silence for a few long moments, and the uncomfortable feeling passed. Die thought he could be happy spending any evening, just like this, watching a beautiful natural phenomenon from relative safety, with Kyo at his side.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was quiet. There were still other people milling around, talking, laughing, enjoying themselves, but it was all just background noise, along with the soft whooshing of the waves below them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was pensive and still, and it caught Die off-guard when he spoke again. “It probably goes without saying that I don’t have a good relationship with my family. I dropped out of school, dyed my hair, got tattoos… Obviously my career choices didn’t improve the situation.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s just your parents?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I have a sister, too,” Kyo said. “We’re not close.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It hurt Die’s heart just to hear the casual way Kyo talked about being detached from his entire family. From all he’d been able to gather, Kyo didn’t have all that many close friends, either. Where was the guy’s support system? “I’m sorry,” Die said lamely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “I’m kind of over it. I don’t feel like it was any great loss. I did have a grandfather I was close with when I was a kid, but he passed away when I was a teenager. I took that a lot harder.” He rubbed at his nose. “I talk to my mom sometimes. We’ve been in touch more lately, I try to let her know I’m grateful for her raising me and everything. But my dad was a dick even when I was in grade school, so I’m not really mourning that relationship, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, makes sense,” Die said, but he kind of felt like <em>he</em> was mourning that relationship on Kyo’s behalf. It would have been so nice for Kyo to have someone he could respect and trust, who would support him on all his endeavors. It hurt to think that Kyo was so alone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They stood watching the storm a bit longer, a chill settling over the wharf, and Die realized Kyo was shivering next to him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you okay?” he asked. “Shit, you’re in a t-shirt, you must be freezing!” Without even thinking about it, he wrapped his arm around Kyo’s shoulders in an attempt to share his warmth.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m fine,” Kyo said, though surprisingly he didn’t pull away. “It might be getting… kind of late, though.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t all that late, but Die understood that they’d been hanging out for a while, so they would probably be wise to call it a night and head home.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did you take the train here?” he asked, retracting his arm with some reluctance.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, there’s a station really close to my building.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you—I could give you a ride home, if you want?” Die offered, more nervous speaking the words than he’d imagined he would be. “So you don’t have to walk in the cold.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked at him, that small smile on his face again. “Thanks. I appreciate it, but I’m good to get home on my own.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, okay,” Die said. He tried not to be too obvious with his disappointment; Kyo would certainly be turned off if he was pushy about it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, Die walked with Kyo to the station, and waited with him for his train, which came only a short time later. There was no goodnight kiss, but Kyo said that he’d enjoyed himself, and that they should do it again sometime soon, so Die took it as a definite success.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The usual traffic on the way home seemed like nothing at all to Die in his state of elation. Overall, the evening had gone better than he could have ever predicted, and he was certain that it was only the beginning of things for them.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry for the late update! Everything is stressful right now, and the uncertainty of it all is really getting to my anxiety, but! I'm okay! One day at a time, and I got through today, so I can get through the next day, too.<br/>Sending much love to everyone~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">To say that Kyo was relieved would have been an understatement.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He almost couldn’t believe his luck. They’d made it through the entire evening—the entire <em>date</em>, as Toshiya called it—and things had never once taken a romantic turn. There had been a few times when he’d worried that Die was about to make it weird, but it had never gone in that direction, and Kyo felt like a huge weight had been lifted off him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> All his worrying had been for nothing; clearly, Die felt the same way Kyo did, that he’d like for the two of them to be <em>friends</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The knowledge was safe and reassuring, and Kyo basked in it all the next day. He’d gotten most of his errands done on Saturday, so he was able to spend a good part of the day relaxing at home, doing laundry and playing some video games. He had nothing to report to Toshiya, and didn’t feel the need to reach out to him, but he was kind of surprised to get a message from Die, a link to some song he was recommending.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They’d talked about music the night before, their rockstar fantasies a point of common interest for them, and Kyo listened to the whole song twice through before sending a response.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Is this the type of music you’d like to play in your band? Kinda softer than what I’d imagine to be your style.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Which wasn’t to say that Kyo didn’t like it. It was actually a really nice sounding song, it just surprised him somewhat.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Lol not really, i just like it, and it made me think of you</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>But what’s that supposed to mean anyway? I can be soft!</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo chuckled at the defensive reaction. He hadn’t really meant that he didn’t think Die could be soft, but he was tempted to tease him about it further, just to see how indignant he got.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Feeling merciful, he focused instead on finding a song that seemed appropriate to send back. He settled on one that felt nostalgic and familiar, that he figured Die would be able to appreciate for its strong melody line and syncopated rhythm.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was a while before Die texted back. Kyo had returned to playing his game when his phone vibrated and he was knocked dramatically aside by an enemy in his distraction. He had to pause the game before he completely died.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>I'd love to hear you sing sometime.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>What, that song? Might be a little out of my range.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Anything. I bet you’re really good.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was so unfounded that Kyo let out a snort. He wasn’t sure what Die was imagining, but he was sure it was far from reality.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>I’m really nothing special</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Yeah i figured you’d say something like that. I mean it tho.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Do you do karaoke?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Not when I can avoid it.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>We should go sometime, all of us! Shinya and Toshiya too, it would be fun.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It didn’t sound at all fun to Kyo. Except—it kinda did? He didn’t enjoy karaoke, generally speaking. People got so drunk, and he had big issues with the sound quality. In all the times Toshiya had begged him to go out for karaoke over the years he’d only allowed himself to be dragged along <em>once</em>. So, why was it that Die’s proposition actually sounded like it might be kind of a good time?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Throughout the day, Kyo and Die exchanged more text messages about inconsequential matters, and although Kyo wasn’t one to text overmuch, he was enjoying the conversation. It made his dull but necessary household chores less lonely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die told him more about his upcoming trip abroad for his fashion work, suggested that sometime in the future Kyo should join him, come along for the experience and the travel.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>I bet if i go to LA or New York you could get a tattoo pretty easily. Could probably even find an artist who speaks Japanese.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>And if you got really lucky, we might have a layover in Hawaii.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Rather than dwell on the point that Kyo could hardly just stow away in Die’s luggage to travel halfway around the world, Kyo rolled his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Sure, I bet. I’ll consider it.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]:</b><em> What’s the next one you want to get?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had to think about that, and ended up sending Die a few images from different sci-fi artists whose work he found inspiring.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The response was delayed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Wow those look cool</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even in a text message, Kyo could sense his lack of enthusiasm.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>It’s ok, I know it’s nerdy af, I just like the aesthetic.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Haha it is but it fits with you! And you should do whatever you want w your body anyway.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was unusual for Kyo to make new friends. Even at the salon, the only person he’d go so far as to call his friend was Toshiya, and yet despite his trust issues, talking with Die made him feel kind of happy and socially productive, so much so that he hardly even felt annoyed when Toshiya cornered him at the salon on Monday morning to demand a recap of his and Die’s coffee date.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It was 100% platonic,” Kyo said firmly. “I had nothing to be worried about.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You set your boundaries clearly?” Toshiya asked. “Like you told him outright you didn’t want anything more?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I didn’t even need to,” Kyo said. “We just had a nice, normal time.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What did you wear?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Does it matter? You wouldn’t ask what I wore to hang out with <em>you</em>, or any <em>other</em> friend,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not comparable,” Toshiya said. “Tell me everything, what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo sighed and started in on his briefest version of the evening, but as he talked, he grew more and more wary of the expression on Toshiya’s face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?” he asked finally. “Why do you look like that, what’s—<em>What</em>?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kyo…” Toshiya said. “It all just sounds. Pretty damn romantic.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What!?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You walked along the waterfront at sunset? You spent two hours <em>talking</em>, you stood there and watched a lightning storm, and he offered to drive you home?” Toshiya gave him a look. “All that’s missing is the kiss at the end of the date.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re taking everything out of context,” Kyo argued. “It wasn’t like that at all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did he pay at the café?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, yeah, but—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And he waited with you for your train?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He was just being—” Kyo broke off, unsure how to phrase it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “A gentleman? He probably would have offered you his jacket, too, held the door for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo scowled. “He wasn’t wearing a jacket.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Jesus Christ,” Toshiya said, clearly exasperated. “Are you just <em>pretending</em> to not see the facts for what they are?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He never <em>said</em> it was a date!” Kyo insisted. “He never said anything like that!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did he say it <em>wasn’t</em>? Did <em>you</em>? Just because it went unsaid doesn’t mean it wasn’t on his mind.” Toshiya’s shoulders slumped sympathetically. “Did you agree to see him again?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well—I mean, it was kind of fun,” Kyo said. “We said we’d do it again soon.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And have you heard from him since then?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo thought of all the text messages the day before, so pleasantly unexpected, so <em>friendly</em>. Defensive anger boiled up inside him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What the hell is wrong with you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya’s eyes widened. “Wh—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Why</em>? Why do you always have to make everything into a—a <em>Thing</em>? Why couldn’t I just have nice time without you coming in, shitting all over it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya sputtered, “I’m <em>not—</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You weren’t there,” Kyo said. “You don’t know anything about it, and just because you interpret something one way doesn’t make it so. So why don’t you just butt the fuck out of my personal business?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya’s face went all pale and sad, and he returned to the front counter without another word, leaving Kyo to stew in how lousy he felt, his poor mood only amplified by how it had crashed from his earlier high spirits.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d been too harsh with Toshiya, he knew that, but he just got so frustrated hearing the same shit from him over and over. He acted like Kyo knew nothing about the world, like he couldn’t understand things for himself, and it was just infuriating to be treated like he was so clueless.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After all, what could Toshiya really know about it? Kyo was the one who had been out with Die, and the entire thing had been <em>easy</em> to interpret. They’d gotten to know each other, but it wasn’t like Die had been flirting. It would have been one thing if he’d shown up with flowers, or tried to hold Kyo’s hand, but there had been nothing said or done that Kyo would think was out of place with any of his friends.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He couldn’t understand why Toshiya would want to ruin it, to make Kyo <em>uncomfortable</em> around Die. Because as it was, he really <em>wasn’t</em> uncomfortable. He’d spent that whole evening walking around with Die, and he’d felt like it was easy. Like they were on the same page.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Much as he hated that he'd been brought to it, Kyo spent his time between appointments poring over his text conversation with Die, trying to decide if he’d misread things. He was driving himself crazy with his over-analysis, reading Die’s words back to himself with different inflections, and trying to determine which was how it was intended.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> What he found was discouraging. It might not have been a certainty, but there was a definite possibility that Die had been meaning to flirt with him. Out of context, it was hard to tell, but he could see how Toshiya would have gotten that idea, and he was probably going to owe him an apology.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was easier to focus on that than on the question of what the hell he would actually say to Die about it. Surely if there had been some miscommunication it had been on Kyo’s end; he knew perfectly well that he didn’t always express himself clearly. And Toshiya was right that he should have been more upfront about where he wanted things to go.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He had to be totally straightforward from here on out, and right away, before things went any further, or got out of hand. But it was hard to know how to bring up something like that. If he just texted Die with that shit out of nowhere, he ran the risk of making things ultimately uncomfortable between them, and that wasn’t what he wanted. As things stood, the atmosphere was easy. Even if there was some miscommunication it wasn’t uncomfortable. If Kyo brought it up only to discover that Die <em>hadn’t</em> meant anything with it at all, he would feel pretty stupid, and Die could be offended.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It would be different if it was something he could work into a face-to-face conversation. Over text, Die could take his words the wrong way and get upset.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t know what he’d say anyway. Just state explicitly that he only wanted to be friends? In what situation could that subject change sound remotely natural? If anything, he would sound desperate and presumptuous.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Once again, he reflected on the time they’d spent together, standing on the wharf. He'd felt more inclined to share personal things about himself than he almost ever did, had been <em>interested</em> when Die had shared his own details as well. It was rare for him, almost as much as when he hadn’t flinched away from Die’s arm wrapping around his cold shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They’d stood so close together that several times they’d been touching, their arms brushing one another, and it had actually been—okay. Kyo hadn’t hated it. He didn’t even hate the memory of it. Die was warm, and for some reason, it was <em>okay</em> to be close to him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe it was <em>more</em> than okay.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo searched his feelings, tried to pinpoint whether he’d actually <em>liked </em>the way Die’s arm had felt against his own, but it was confusing to look at it in retrospect, and he was aware that it was a weird fucking thing to have to analyze at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, it led him to the bigger question, of <em>did</em> he only want to be friends? Would it be so terrible to <em>date</em> Die?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo put his phone away without coming to a proper conclusion. In any case, he didn’t need to decide everything right then and there. Nothing Die had done indicated that he was trying to rush them into a relationship. Next time they saw each other, he could be more aware of himself, and gauge what he wanted, when he had more to go on than his own, often-misleading, thoughts.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Nothing could knock Die down from Cloud Nine. He’d been floating ever since he'd gotten home from his date with Kyo, and wasn’t likely to come down anytime soon.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After how nervous he’d been, it had almost come as a shock how well it had gone, how well they’d <em>connected</em>. But they’d been texting ever since Saturday, and it was easy to tell that the feelings he had for Kyo were mutual. He didn’t want to get ahead of himself and say they were <em>in love</em>, but…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die took the steps up to Shinya’s floor two at a time, unable to keep the smile off his face. Tonight was the first time he was getting to hang out with Shinya since he’d gone out with Kyo, and though he’d shared some information about how it had gone in a general sort of way, he really hadn’t gone into any detail, and was excited to finally tell him everything about it, from the way Kyo smelled to the serious flirting they’d been doing over text since.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He couldn’t help but feel sort of smug about it, after how Shinya had acted like Kyo was going to reject him. Die could tell Shinya of his triumphs and Shinya would have to admit that he’d been wrong, that Die and Kyo were basically made for each other.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya tipped his head to one side as he opened the door to let Die in. “You’re in a good mood. What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shrugged, still beaming. “Nothing new. I’m just happy. Things with Kyo are going really well.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya’s eyebrows lifted briefly in mild surprise. “I’m glad to hear it. I, ah, assume I’m going to be hearing a lot more about it tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s smile turned sheepish. “If you don’t mind? I’m excited is all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can’t say I didn’t expect as much,” Shinya said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They settled on the floor in Shinya’s living room with drinks and snacks, and Shinya looked expectantly at Die, patient but ready to listen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die started off giving a basic rundown of their date, filling in some of the blanks in what he’d told him before.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I swear, he looks good no matter what he’s wearing,” Die said. It wasn’t something he’d had much thought on when he’d first met him, but having seen him both dressed up and in jeans, he was convinced that Kyo could work any outfit at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “In his work he probably knows a thing or two about how to style himself,” Shinya said reasonably. “One might say the same thing about you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess, but I don’t think it counts when I put so damn much effort into my appearance,” Die said. “I’m open about how much product I use, and I get my hair maintained regularly and professionally. Kyo really seems like he just woke up looking like that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s a kind of backhanded compliment, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He doesn’t <em>need</em> to spend time and energy on his looks,” Die said. “That’s part of what I like about him. Not that I’ve ever begrudged someone who values that kind of thing…” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Certainly not."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But Kyo is just. So straightforward, about who he is, what he does. He doesn’t feel the need to make things pretty for anyone else’s benefit, and I respect that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sounds like you’re already falling pretty hard for him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess so,” Die admitted. “I don’t know, it’s just so strange. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy at the start of a relationship before. I know people talk about some honeymoon period or something, but for me, I usually feel so nervous when everything is new and I’m getting to know someone.” Die leaned his elbows on the low table. “With Kyo, I just feel <em>excited</em>, eager to see him again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “‘The start of a relationship’,” Shinya repeated. “So you two are officially together now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well. Yeah,” Die said. Shinya didn’t sound happy about the fact. He didn’t sound <em>un</em>happy, but Die did kind of expect more of a reaction. “What’s wrong with that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya shook his head. “Of course nothing’s wrong, I just hadn’t heard that part of the story yet. How did it happen? You asked him, or you just mutually agreed…?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die squirmed on his cushion. “I—um, we just agreed? I guess."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya squinted at him for a moment. “And when was this?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That—right then. On Saturday.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You didn’t actually talk about it, did you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die flailed a little. "Talk about—Why would we need to? We just—We already agreed!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Agreed on <em>what</em>?” Shinya pressed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “At the end of the <em>date</em>," Die said irritably, "he said we should 'do it again soon’; in other words, we should go on <em>another date</em>, meaning we’re dating! What is there to talk about?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Did he actually use the word ‘date’ or are you just filling that part in yourself?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ugh, why would you get so hung up on the wording?" Die complained. "We all know what it was and we all had a good time!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not doubting that you had a good time,” Shinya said. “I just think you’re getting ahead of yourself. This was <em>coffee</em>, not some candlelit dinner. Kyo wanting to hang out again doesn’t mean he's your boyfriend all of a sudden. I can’t speak for him, but you need to acknowledge the possibility that his experience was absolutely <em>non</em>-romantic.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die stared at him. "<em>How</em>? We—I mean, I was not pushing anything, I figured we’d see how things went and let it all go down naturally, and if it ended up being platonic, then okay. But in the end…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, in the end, you couldn’t follow your own advice?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why are you being a dick?” Die snapped.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to give you some perspective.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Perspective of someone who <em>wasn't on the date</em>," Die argued. “How can you try to tell me what Kyo is feeling, or how I should be acting?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not doing any of that. I'm saying you need to slow your roll. Enjoy what you two have now, don’t be in such a hurry to make it the next thing. Or else, tell him how you feel.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Tell him—? We’ve only been on one date!” Die said, horrified.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Tell him where you’d like things to go, that you’re interested in being with him,” Shinya said. “I don’t mean you have to start writing him love poems."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die felt completely deflated. He’d been so sure of things, but he trusted Shinya above anyone. If he really thought Die had misread the signals… “What do you think I should do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya considered. "I think you run less risk of pushing him away and scaring him off if you just take things slow for a bit."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How slow are we talking?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No pressure for anything physical,” Shinya said. "Let him be your friend <em>first</em>, and see if anything more comes of it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1"> Fantasies of a second date filled with hand-holding and ending in a kiss outside Kyo’s front door crumbled depressingly. It felt like everything had been ripped out from under him, and Die was starting to worry he’d done something to deserve it. </span>“Did I fuck it up?” he asked.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“It’s too soon to tell,” Shinya answered. “But I don’t think you’ve done anything wrong. Sometimes people are just harder to understand, and though he might seem straightforward, Kyo is definitely one of those who can be confusing. It’s probably better not to assume anything without him saying it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">“Then. I don't need to apologize or something?”</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Only if you feel like you've crossed some line. Nothing you described to me seemed like it would necessitate an apology.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was not altogether reassured. How could he have so misjudged his interactions with Kyo? How had he let himself be so carried away? Did he in fact stand any chance at all of forging a romantic relationship? Had he misunderstood anything else? Maybe Kyo hadn’t even enjoyed their date—their… platonic social engagement—and Die had just seen his response as positive because it had been what he'd wanted to see.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At any rate, Die was determined to better follow Shinya's advice from here on out, and to not rush Kyo into anything.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He tried to be more mindful of Kyo’s reactions to things when he saw him for his next hair appointment. He didn’t go for a hug as a greeting, but he couldn’t help the way his whole face lit up as soon as he caught sight of Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And Kyo smiled back.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey, Die,” he said, and he <em>seemed</em> honestly pleased to see him. “Ready to get your hair started?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded and followed him back to the sinks. “It’s good to see you,” he said, because that was better than his first instinct, which was to say he’d <em>missed</em> him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, you too,” Kyo said. “Been a pretty boring morning so far.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm.” Die couldn’t tell how much he was able to read into Kyo’s response. It could have just been politeness, or it could have been something more. Shinya was right that it was confusing with Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For the most part, Kyo still remained quiet as he worked, but Die was pretty used to that just being his way, and he did speak to him here and there without sounding too annoyed. They didn’t really need to discuss anything about the actual hair styling itself, since Kyo had done it a few times already, and Die trusted him with it. Any light conversation they made was was just conversation.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I finally had a chance to watch that short film you recommended,” Kyo said as he trimmed the ends of Die’s hair. “The one where the guy’s brains are leaking out of his head? That was awesome.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die tried not to laugh, keeping his head still. “Awesome? The whole thing or the brains specifically?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The whole film was interesting,” Kyo said, “but the effects were the best part. I was looking it up afterwards—you know it was done entirely with practical effects? No CGI, all just prosthetic makeup and tricky lighting. I love that stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I bet you’d be really good at that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I like to think so,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die bit his lip, and was glad his head was tilted down for Kyo to work on that part of his hair, so he couldn’t see how he was fighting a smile. Somehow it was hard not to smile when he heard Kyo acknowledging his own talents like that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sort of like how it was hard for him to not blurt out a thousand of his feelings throughout the time Kyo was working. There was so much he wanted to tell him, how he’d been on his mind nonstop since their date, how much he’d been looking forward to seeing him again. It was some absolute miracle that he managed to keep it all inside when Kyo was there with his hands on him the entire time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When the work on his hair was coming to a close, Die felt dread coiling in his stomach. He didn’t want it to end, when he wasn’t even sure when he would get to see Kyo next.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So you have more appointments today?” he said lamely, just as an excuse to linger.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um, yeah, I think so,” Kyo said. “Maybe two more? I’ve gotta ask Toshiya, he’ll probably be pissed.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you supposed to have your schedule memorized or something?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sure he would prefer it if I did. As it is, I’m over there asking him when my next appointment is like fifteen times a day.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You think he’s sick of you?” Die teased.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I would be by now, if I were him,” Kyo said. “I guess… he actually puts up with a lot from me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Really? I haven’t gotten that impression,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You haven't spent all that much time with us together,” Kyo pointed out. “We’ve known each other a long time, and I kinda lose my temper with him, a lot. Not that he doesn’t usually deserve it, but…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die laughed. “Then you put up with a lot from him, too?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, that’s just it, I don’t put up with any of his bullshit at all!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Does that mean he’s not gonna come to karaoke with us?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s eyebrows jumped. “Ahh, well, I haven’t asked him. But in all honesty, he’d probably be up for it more than I would, on any given day.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe I oughta make that plan with him then, see if we can drag you along as an afterthought.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can certainly try,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What about just you then?” Die said, hoping it was a natural segue. “We haven’t made any more plans to hang out.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm, right,” Kyo said. He was busy cleaning up his station and wasn’t looking at Die, making it hard to tell how he felt about the prospect of further planning. “Did you have something specific in mind?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die had to think fast, but having had this fantasy a dozen times in the past week alone, he had a pretty good idea of what he could say. “Well, you’d mentioned before wanting to see that horror flick that just came out, right, with the zombies? Would you want to go see it together?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked up, surprised. “You’re into that kind of thing?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure, I love The Walking Dead,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay then,” Kyo said, nodding. “Yeah, that’d be fun.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Does Saturday afternoon work for you again?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It should,” Kyo said. “If we can find a showing around four or five pm.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll look into it and text you when I get tickets,” Die offered. He had to keep very careful rein of his words so they didn’t fumble over each other in his excitement.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay,” Kyo agreed. “And I’ll pay for drinks and stuff at the theater. Are you more of a sweet or savory kind of guy?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can go either way,” Die said. “If I recall your obsession with those chocolate-covered nuts correctly—you’re more into sweets?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Guilty,” Kyo said with a half-smile.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Suddenly, Kyo’s name was hissed loudly from the front, and they both turned to find Toshiya gesturing urgently towards the clock.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It would appear that you have an imminent appointment,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “See, I never know anything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll text you later about Saturday then. And thanks for doing a great job with my hair, as always.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No problem,” Kyo said. “See you around.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die left, smiling, but he truly didn’t know what to make of things. In all that time he’d been trying so hard to take notice Kyo’s responses, to find out definitively what Kyo’s interest in him was, but he felt no closer to an understanding than he had before. He just knew he needed to be careful not to make their dates overly intimate until he had more information.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was fine anyway, since he mostly just wanted to spend the time with Kyo. But he still hoped he’d figure things out soon.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Love to everyone! <br/>(PS how great/painful was it to watch Shinya and Kaoru's Q&amp;A session? Incredible. Such astounding social ineptitude, I was in awe. I love them dearly.)<br/>(PPS this au is clearly set in a non-corona-impacted world (I can't even bring myself to write quarantine fic for fun, it bums me out too much) so who knows what kind of stuff they've got at the movies am I right?)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">There really wasn’t anything wrong with how things were going. The stream of clients had been steady but not so overwhelming that Kyo couldn’t find time for himself here and there. He wasn’t worried about money or panicking about the future, and more often than not his mood was… kinda good? He wasn’t used to it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wouldn’t claim not to know that a significant part of that positivity was Die’s presence in his life. It had been over a month since they first met for coffee, and they’d been texting regularly ever since. They’d even hung out four more times, and it had been casual and comfortable every time, meaning the friendship’s position in his stress ranking had dropped dramatically and could just be something Kyo enjoyed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Perhaps his greatest source of stress currently was actually his friendship with <em>Toshiya</em>. He’d been an ass to Toshiya, was <em>often</em> less of a friend than he should have been, and was all too aware that some sort of major apology was in order.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Last week, Toshiya had even missed two days of work at the salon, which was something that <em>never</em> happened. The hairdressers had had to take turns working the front desk between their appointments, and there was a huge sense of relief when he returned to work. When Kyo had asked him where he’d been, Toshiya had simply said that it was family business and failed to elaborate. Kyo didn’t know when things had become so cold between them that Toshiya didn’t want to open up about such a thing, but he was sure it was his own fault.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He needed to make things right, make time for Toshiya the way that friends were meant to, let him know that he valued him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Of course the last time he’d done something with Toshiya out of guilt he’d ended up running into Die at that gala, and it was a toss-up whether one would call that ending well or not. He didn’t feel like playing with that kind of fire again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But it seemed like Toshiya was utterly caught off-guard when Kyo approached him after work to ask if he’d like to come over to Kyo’s<em> apartment</em> to hang out instead.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You mean, like, your <em>home</em>?” he said incredulously.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If you don’t want to, it’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I didn’t—That sounds kind of… fun? I’m just… Why? You never have me over.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was true that it was extremely rare for Kyo to have guests of any sort, and although Toshiya was one of his closest friends, Kyo still didn’t generally welcome him into his personal space.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well,” Kyo said with a shrug. “I figured I’d rather hang out with you at home, on my terms, than in some other location outside of my control.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya looked exaggeratedly moved. “You want to hang out with me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Unless you don’t want to,” Kyo said quickly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, stop that,” Toshiya said. “I just haven’t been sure you were even… I thought you might still be annoyed with me, about all the Die stuff. I haven’t wanted to make things worse.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That explained how recently Toshiya had backed way off with his involvement in Kyo’s social enterprises. He hadn’t so much as asked how things were going with Die in weeks, but Kyo hadn’t thought anything of it, since that was what he’d wanted all along. Now that he took the time to consider the peculiarity he just felt more guilty for being so hard on Toshiya before.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re not making things worse,” Kyo said. “That’s part of why I want to hang out, actually. I’m… really sorry for my behavior.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “When?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Most of the time?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya shook his head. “Kyo, there’s nothing wrong with your behavior. I 100% understand why you were upset with me before.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “My being upset doesn’t justify how unkindly I treated you,” Kyo said. “And we both know it wasn’t a one-time thing. I act like an ass towards you on a pretty much regular basis, and I don’t want to be that way.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, well, then. Thank you. And I would love to hang out.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo let out a sigh of relief. “Are you busy tonight?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, you mean, like, now-ish?” Toshiya looked at his phone. “I mean, um. I guess not? What the hell, yeah, I’m free, let’s go to your place!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo hadn’t fully expected it all to be so easy, but he was happy to just spend some time with Toshiya. He’d almost forgotten how much he enjoyed their time together <em>without</em> all the stress of Kyo’s personal life hanging over them. For once they just relaxed, ate dinner, talked about the salon, and anything weird that had happened there lately—though Kyo noticed Toshiya once again conspicuously avoided the topic of the owners and their plans to sell.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You saw that one girl that Masaki had earlier this week, yeah?” Toshiya said, lying on Kyo’s living room floor, his chin propped up on one hand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You would have to be infinitely more specific,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She got like a pixie cut, had these serious eyebrows.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged, shifted so his back was leaning against the front of the couch. “On second thought, it probably doesn’t matter how specific you are, I don’t really pay attention to things like that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You had to have seen her,” Toshiya insisted. “They were flirting like crazy, it was impossible to ignore.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo thought that was definitely subjective, and that he was far more equipped to ignore such things than Toshiya was, but he did take some small comfort in the knowledge that it wasn’t only <em>Kyo’s</em> imaginary romantic drama that Toshiya got worked up about.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know you think I’m making it up,” Toshiya said, rolling his eyes. “But just because <em>you</em> don’t flirt doesn’t mean other people don’t. He even showed me that he got her phone number.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh. Then, uh, good for him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I hope so,” Toshiya said. “He was talking about trying to take her out this weekend, but I haven’t heard much else about it. I hope she doesn’t ghost him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head fondly. “At some point, you know, it wouldn’t kill you to put a little more energy into your <em>own</em> love life, instead of obsessing over the minor details of the interactions of those around you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya lowered his body, folding his hands flat on the floor and setting his chin atop them. “There’s nothing going on in my love life,” he said sullenly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What about that date you had last month?” Kyo asked. “Or did you even really have one?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I had one,” Toshiya said. “I had a second date with him, too, it just… didn’t go anywhere after that. No sparkage, you know? Like he was cute, but he was a salesman for a sesame oil company—Not that there’s anything <em>wrong</em> with that, but we just didn’t have much in common.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe Kyo could have pointed out that having that kind of thing in common isn’t strictly necessary for a strong relationship, but if there was no “sparkage”, as Toshiya put it, either, then it could have been that they just weren’t good together. Toshiya surely knew his own needs better than any guesswork Kyo could make.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I’m sorry to hear that,” Kyo said. “You deserve to find someone who’s right for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, sure, just so I’ll get out of your hair, right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I mean, that’s not the <em>only</em> reason…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya chuckled, but his smile faded after a moment. “I know I said it before, but I’m still really sorry for butting into your relationship with Die like that. You guys had only gone out one time, you were still just figuring stuff out, and I didn’t mean to cause you grief stressing out about his intentions…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s okay," Kyo said. “It did stress me out, but I’m not mad now. Besides, it turned out you were wrong anyway, so it’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um.” Toshiya’s brow wrinkled. “What d'you mean I was wrong so it’s fine?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “About Die wanting to date and the romance and all of it,” Kyo said. “He just wants to be friends.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was obvious that Toshiya didn’t believe him even before he said, “What kind of evidence do you have to support this theory?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’ve been texting, and we’ve hung out a few more times in the past month,” Kyo said, “and he’s <em>never</em> invited me back to his place afterwards, tried to kiss me, sent me any dick pics, nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe he’s just not a dick pic kind of guy,” Toshiya argued.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Maybe</em>,” Kyo said dubiously. But really, he wasn’t completely naive about these things. He used to do sex work, after all, he wasn’t totally blind to a man’s advances. It was true that Die wasn’t like most of the guys he’d encountered in that part of his life; he was polite and genuine, and seemed to like Kyo as a person rather than as a flexible body. But even a polite guy could make his interest known enough for Kyo to pick up on it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I need more information,” Toshiya said. He sat up, more alert than he’d been all evening. “Can you report on the last few dates you’ve had?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure,” Kyo said, “but really, I think it’s a stretch to even refer to them as dates. We went to check out some okonomiyaki place—just eating and talking—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What did you talk about?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had to work to remember, to separate all the conversations they’d had from one another. Finally he said, “Video games.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, the whole time?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “There was a lot to say,” Kyo said with a shrug. “We talked about what we got into as kids, classic video games, arcades, what we still play now. He doesn’t play much these days, but he likes zombies so I made a few recommendations.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Geez, sounds like some nerdy-ass conversation,” Toshiya said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess so,” Kyo agreed. “But not very romantic.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I’ll let you have that one.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We've been to the movies a couple times, too. Last time we saw the re-release of the latest <em>Star Wars</em>,” Kyo said. “I had to give him some background, ‘cause he hadn’t seen the last couple movies in the series.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “More nerdiness, okay,” Toshiya said, baffled. “And during the movie? Did you share popcorn?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head. “That time I wanted sweets and he wanted salty, so we had separate snacks. And before you even ask, he never tried to put his arm around me. We just watched the movie and it was fun, and then we went home.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay. Okay, that sounds. Friendly.” Toshiya scratched his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t get it. What about, like, the chemistry you guys had?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You might be misremembering things. When we first met we could barely get along. Or maybe it was just meant to be friend-chemistry,” Kyo suggested. “We have a really good time whenever we hang out. We spent one afternoon just shopping, and I was laughing almost the whole time. Die’s funny, and he’s smarter than I thought at first.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But you guys are really just friends?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged again and nodded.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s good, then, right?” Toshiya said. “You didn’t want anything more than that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right,” Kyo said slowly. “I mean. No, yeah, it’s good. I’m happy with how things are between us now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The ‘but’ you’re not saying right now is so loud I can practically hear a fart,” Toshiya said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo rolled his eyes. “<em>But</em>. I don’t know. I’d be okay with more, too.” He fidgeted with a ring on his forefinger. “I don’t need anything else, I don’t feel like something’s missing, or wish we were <em>fucking</em> or whatever, but… Die’s nice. I think… maybe <em>dating</em> him would also be nice. I wouldn’t mind it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya nodded and there was a pause before he said, “You know… Not to be crass, but—<em>If</em> you two were dating, he… I mean, he <em>would</em> probably want to be fucking. Like not necessarily, maybe not, I don’t know the details of his sexuality, but it’s probably <em>likely</em> that he would consider a <em>relationship</em> to include some—intimacy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know,” Kyo said. “I’ve thought of that, obviously.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What would you do, then? Have an open relationship, or…?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I could be okay with it,” Kyo said. “Or I could try.” He still had some reservations about being able to satisfy Die in that way when he didn’t personally get a lot of enjoyment out of sex, but if it was something important to Die, they could at least give it a shot.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo froze as he had the thought. <em>Why</em>? Why would he be willing to give it a shot just for Die’s sake? What they had as a <em>friendship</em> was good enough with<em>out</em> an added element of awkwardness. Why would he go out of his way to make a relationship work?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Unless… He really <em>liked</em> Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It came as a strange sort of epiphany, Kyo sitting there and frowning with the dawning realization that Die wasn’t just “okay” to be around; Kyo honestly, seriously <em>liked</em> him, more than he liked just about anyone, and the thought of doing quietly intimate things with him, like holding his hand as they walked down the street, or falling asleep beside him was… <em>nice</em>. It made Kyo feel warm just to imagine it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You all right there?” Toshiya asked.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… yeah. I think I have—feelings, for Die,” Kyo said, testing the words out uncertainly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Just all of a sudden?” Toshiya said in alarm.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe gradually,” Kyo said. “I just didn’t notice until I thought about it just now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Wow,” Toshiya said. Then, “But—he only wants to be friends.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s heart sank. Oh. Right.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm. So. An unfortunate revelation.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But hey!” Toshiya said. “You never know! Maybe if you put your interest out there, he’d be receptive to it! You can’t know until you try, right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm.” Kyo couldn’t see himself making that kind of move. It was one thing to be open to it if Die was interested, but <em>initiating</em> something where he wasn’t even sure he could provide what a partner would want just felt like it would be… unwise, to put it kindly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo got up to get them more drinks, and when he returned they shifted the conversation topic to something else, an upcoming hair expo that they’d been thinking of scoping out. Kyo’s mind was still on Die, though, and he didn’t think he’d shake that off any time soon.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It had been foolish of Kyo to ever think someone like Die would be romantically interested in him. Die worked with beautiful people from all over the world; that was his <em>career</em>, his <em>life</em>. Even now, he was preparing for a trip to Milan, where he would be surrounded by other models, people like him. Surely, those countless gorgeous individuals would have an intrinsically better understanding of Die and his lifestyle, and thus be more suitable as partners for him. They knew what he had to deal with, and they were probably more emotionally available than Kyo was anyway, more open to a kind of intimacy that Kyo hesitated to offer. And Die could have literally anyone he set his sights on.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo thought he should be happy. For Die. It was a wonderful position to be in, to have his pick of anyone who appealed to him. And Kyo was happy for himself, too, that he could be <em>friends</em> with this man whose company he so enjoyed, who he really <em>liked</em>. And without any pressure to give more than he was comfortable with.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was the best possible situation, and everyone involved could get what they wanted from it. Kyo should have been happy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, why didn’t he feel happy?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I wanted to put a sort of a reminder at this chapter, and I'm changing the rating, this story is going to have a few sex scenes at some point. I wouldn't call them smut because that's not really the point (spoilers?) and there might be some uncomfortable sexual situations (nothing I'd really go so far as to call even dub-con, but people have different limits with that kind of thing), so I want to give you guys some advance warning on that. Keep an eye on the chapter notes for more warnings when those chapters come up, starting with this one: Very mild, but potentially uncomfortable, drunk making out/touching, around the midway point of the chapter.<br/>Thanks and take care! Sorry if I seem overly concerned about it, I just want to be sure with the subject of asexuality featuring in this fic that sex scenes don't catch anyone by surprise xoxo!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As soon as the rehearsal for the runway show was over, Die nearly collapsed into the closest chair available. He hated to admit it, but he was really struggling.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t the preparations for the show itself that were exhausting him, though. Sure, the time difference wasn’t the easiest thing to get used to, but more than that, he was mentally and emotionally drained by the whole situation with Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There hadn’t been any real development there; he hadn’t made any move to make his feelings known, and they’d been perfectly friendly to each other, but there was hardly a minute out of the day that Kyo wasn’t on Die’s mind.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d hoped that going on this trip, being invested in his work, would give him some kind of reprieve. He <em>liked</em> what he had with Kyo, he truly did, and he could be satisfied with friendship if he knew it was what Kyo wanted, but the gnawing uncertainty, along with a selfish desire for more just meant Die was thinking about it all constantly, and enjoying his trip to Europe was made marginally more difficult because of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re not worn out already, I hope?” One of the other models, Miyavi, said, taking a seat beside Die in front of the makeup mirrors. Die had known him for years, worked with him several times in Tokyo, and while they weren’t really friends, it didn’t surprise Die that he would notice there was something off with him today.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not worn out,” Die said, shaking his head. “Just using the break to—think about some distractions.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What kind of distractions?” Miyavi asked. “If you feel comfortable talking about it…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shrugged. “Just stuff back home.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Hands were suddenly on his shoulders. “<em>Die</em>-san, please tell me you’re going to do that hair flip during the actual show tonight? That was the highlight of the whole rehearsal!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was one of the younger women who Die didn’t know as well, but who had found more opportunities to be touching him in the past two days than Die usually found to put his hands on even his good friends in a year.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um,” Die said. “Heh, I guess we’ll have to see how it goes in the moment.” He felt a little awkward with the amount of contact he got from this girl. She was friendly enough, but sometimes he wondered if she was imagining their relationship to be closer than it really was.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You have such great hair,” she said, toying with a few locks. “I wish I could get mine to look like this. I’m not even supposed to dye mine.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, well it’s sort of Die’s trademark, though, isn’t it?” Miyavi said. His own hair had changed color and style frequently over the years, but never ventured anywhere near Die’s. “He works it better than the rest of us could hope to.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But his hair is prettier than mine, and he’s a <em>boy</em>,” she complained. “It’s not fair. What’s your secret?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I have a great hair stylist,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is that still Miki?” Miyavi asked, adjusting where his false eyelashes had come loose on one side. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shook his head. “No, actually. I was so worried about replacing her, but the guy I found is just—he’s awesome.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He’s in Tokyo?” the girl said. “You’ll get me his contact info, won’t you? I need a change, and your hair is the <em>best</em>!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll, uh… see what I can do,” Die said. “But I don’t know if he’s taking on new clients right now.” He was more than a little hesitant to share Kyo’s information with this girl. He couldn’t imagine that Kyo would appreciate it much, and she would probably just take offense at his disinterest in her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She smacked Die lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t be a <em>tease</em>! You just want him all to yourself!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was also true, but Die didn’t feel like going into that aspect of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How about this,” he said. “I’ll try to get in touch with the salon later today, and ask if they have any openings for you next month?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You would do that for <em>me</em>? Oh my gosh, Die, you’re the sweetest!” she gushed, giving his arm a squeeze.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She was called away then to talk about an adjustment to one of her dresses, and she skipped off with a wave that Die returned only half-heartedly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Wow, someone’s got a crush, huh?” Miyavi said quietly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?” Die turned to look at him in barely-concealed horror. “No, I don’t even know her!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I—I meant <em>her</em>,” Miyavi said. “You really are distracted, aren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sighed. “I guess so. I don’t know, I want to be enjoying myself, but my head and heart are just elsewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know what you mean,” Miyavi said. “My girlfriend is back in Tokyo, and even though traveling is part of my work and always has been, it’s tough to be away from her. Especially since I know she can get kind of insecure with me spending time with the model crowds. I send her like twenty selfies a day just to reassure her.” He laughed, but Die found it a little disturbing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “She makes you do that?” he asked. “That seems sort of controlling. Does she not trust you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Miyavi shook his head. “It was completely my idea. She trusts me, but I get that it’s hard to have your partner off in a foreign country doing god knows what. I started sending the selfies just as a way to cheer her up, now it’s kind of our thing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, yeah, that makes sense,” Die said, nodding. He had the useless thought that he would like to send some reassuring selfies to Kyo as well, but that wasn’t really part of what they did together, and Kyo didn’t need that kind of reassurance, so it was a moot point. He wanted to send him <em>some</em> kind of message though. Maybe he would really reach out to warn him about the girl who wanted his professional info. For all Die knew, Kyo might appreciate the extra business. Or at least, he might find the story amusing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He stopped himself before he took his phone out. However obsessive he was being about Kyo, there had been no indication that Kyo was interested in hearing from him during his trip. Was it weird for friends to text each other when one was out of the country for work? Maybe not, but Die reminded himself that he was supposed to be using this distance to take his mind <em>off</em> Kyo, not just using Kyo as an excuse to be reclusive and lame the whole trip.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After all, there was no shortage of things for him to pay attention to here. That obnoxious girl wasn’t the only one of the models who had been flirting with him, and under normal circumstances, he would have been totally receptive to their advances.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To whom was he being faithful, exactly? He and Kyo weren’t together, and Kyo didn’t give a damn whether Die flirted with other models while he was abroad. Why shouldn’t he flirt? In fact, it was probably healthy for him to keep his options open.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When everyone reconvened for the actual show that evening, Die was determined to push Kyo entirely out of his thoughts, to replace his visage living in Die’s brain with the nearest, most available attractive body in the vicinity.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There were plenty to choose from; those Die knew and those he didn’t, men and women, Japanese and foreign. One way or another it would be ridiculously easy for Die to occupy himself with someone who wasn’t Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He returned some of the flirtations aimed his way, and by the time the show was over and everyone was heading for the afterparty at the hotel where they were all staying, Die had it narrowed down to just a handful of potentially-interested models. The main contenders were two men, Isaac and Alessandro, and one woman, Adriana. All three of them had been making eyes at him for the better part of the trip, and Die felt sure once he had some alcohol in his system he’d be even more down for whatever came his way.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The afterparty was a blur. He started out talking idly with Miyavi once more, but after his third quickly-downed glass of champagne, Die ventured out of his comfort zone, and even onto the dance floor, where he found himself neatly sandwiched between Isaac and another Scandinavian model whose name Die hadn’t caught.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You dance well,” Isaac told him in English, his hands large and heavy on Die’s narrow hips. “It’s part of your background?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die laughed. “Not outside of this context,” he replied. He trailed his fingers up Isaac’s toned arms, down his broad chest. Damn, but he had a fantastic body.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I trained with a dance company many years,” Isaac said. “But none of the company were as handsome as you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s mind flitted traitorously to Kyo’s dance experience. Isaac here had training, but could he hold his own against Kyo?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was the wrong sort of thought, and Die tried to shake it off, to ground himself in the blue of Isaac’s eyes, so pale, so different from Kyo’s…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think I need to get another drink,” Die said, and excused himself in search of more alcohol.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Adriana was leaning against the bar as Die approached, her smile seeming to glow in the party’s mood lighting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She, too, spoke to him in English, “Enjoying yourself so far?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die ordered his drink before turning his attention to her. “Always.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Saw you moving out there. Very fluid.” She sidled closer. “Somehow I had not been expecting you as a dancer.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She was in heels and Die had to look up at her to meet her eyes. “Why’s that? I seem too serious to dance?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She smirked, looking off to the side. “Perhaps not serious. But earlier today you seemed… thinking, very much. I didn’t know if you would attend afterparty at all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die took his drink from the bar, sipped it contemplatively. “You’re right, I was thinking very much earlier. I decided to stop.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Her laughter was deliberately melodic. “Stop thinking?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Perfect solution, isn’t it?” Die leaned his elbow on the bar, let his arm brush against hers. “Don’t you prefer action?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “In most cases,” she said, leaning in towards him even more. “So, <em>Die</em>, man of action. Will you ask me to dance?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Smiling, he slid his hand into hers and let her lead him back to the dance floor. Isaac and his friend had moved on, so Die felt no guilt about slighting them, but he was somehow unprepared for how Adriana danced with him—or, <em>on</em> him. She pulled his arms around her, settled his hands dangerously low on her hips, and pressed her back against his chest.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The music’s bass was heavy, thrummed through Die’s ribcage as he tried to move with his dance partner. He swallowed as she rolled her hips sensuously, ground back against him in a way that was beyond suggestive.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was by no means a prude, but this was still going fast enough to catch him by surprise. To tell the truth, he wasn’t usually big on dancing, and parties like this were never as enjoyable for him as he hoped they would be. Even this—who wouldn’t love to have a gorgeous skyscraper of a woman dirty dancing up against them? In a way, Die <em>did</em> like it, but he was just still so fucking hung up on Kyo that he could’t focus properly on what was happening.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Or, could one be hung up on someone they never dated?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Adriana’s head tipped back onto Die’s shoulder so she could whisper into his ear, “You’re allowed to move your hands, you know. And you don’t need to remain so much the gentleman.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die took a deep breath, trying to steady himself in reality. All he got was a lungful of Adriana’s perfume, so he tried to use sensation instead, pressing his fingertips more firmly against her body. She felt good against him, and he slid his hands up to the dip of her waist, allowing himself some primal appreciation of how his hands could almost encircle her entirely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe this was just what he needed. If he could accept that things with Kyo were never going anywhere, let himself find pleasure in a near-stranger, maybe that would really be good for him. Certainly better than wallowing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Just then a pair of strong hands landed on Die’s own hips, and a deep voice was at his other ear, hot breath on his neck. “<em>Hope you saved a dance for me also</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alessandro.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Okay, so maybe Die had gone a little overboard, flirting so determinedly with three separate people, and now he was faced with the consequences in the form of all this warmth surrounding and trapping him, hands wandering with the distant thundering of the dance music, and everything felt sort of fuzzy and unlikely.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Adriana at least didn’t seem bothered by Alessandro encroaching on her territory. Rather, she shot him a mischievous smile as she turned in Die’s arms to gently wedge her thigh between Die’s own.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Getting a little crowded on the dance floor, isn’t it?” she remarked, but she seemed to be speaking more to Alessandro than to Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do you suggest?” Alessandro replied, making Die feel like he’d somehow gone invisible right between them. “A change of scenery, perhaps?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your hotel room may be more comfortable,” Adriana purred.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Just like that, Alessandro’s hands were gone from Die’s body, and he was sauntering off the dance floor, heading for the party’s exit.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Adriana only waited a few seconds before tugging Die’s wrist and following after the other man with a barely-suppressed giggle.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die let himself be pulled along, feeling that he was existing in some dream state. No one had asked his opinion, and yet here he was, being led down quiet hotel hallways, just a fair, inconspicuous distance behind Alessandro, who was utterly casual, hands in his pockets until he reached his room and unlocked it with his keycard.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was nothing subtle about where this was heading. Die had put himself in this situation and still allowed himself to be surprised by it. True, it wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, but in the past he’d felt like a more active participant. On this occasion, he was practically just a prop, moved around by other characters with no real opportunity to speak for himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He and Adriana reached the room, slipped inside just before the door closed with a heavy thunk. Alessandro already had his shirt off, and he backed the two of them up against the door, kissing them each before Die had time to really process what was happening.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can’t wait to taste you,” Alessandro murmured, his hand trailing down Die’s hip and along his thigh.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die meant to have a response to that. Maybe something about how handsome Alessandro was, compactly muscled, a nice strong jawline, dark eyes. He was one of the few male models from tonight's show who actually stood just shorter than Die, height-wise, and that was somehow appealing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t manage anything with words though, and then Adriana’s hands were on him, too, sliding up under Die’s shirt, slender fingers teasing over his stomach and up higher.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was good, all this attention, this physical touch, this heat and excitement.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Or, it <em>should</em> have been good.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> An unfamiliar panicky feeling was curling up inside Die, bubbling up from his stomach to wrap dangerous tendrils around his lungs, making it harder to breathe.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was no reason for him to feel that way, nothing that he should rightfully be afraid of. He’d never been someone who minded some aggressive physical contact, and he’d been actively flirting with the other models, specifically in hopes that something like this might happen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In the moment, though, all Die could think of was Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> These people weren’t Kyo—were nothing <em>like</em> Kyo, no matter how Die’s mind tried desperately to draw comparisons, to find and cling to any similarity. When it came down to it, all Die actually wanted was Kyo, and although he wanted to think getting some action would take his mind <em>off</em> Kyo, in reality it just made it worse.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can’t do this,” Die heard his own voice croak, and Alessandro was pulling back before Die could even push him, concern in his dark eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Something is wrong?” he said, gently tucking Die’s hair behind his ear. “Have I done something you dislike?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you need only to slow down?” Adriana offered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They were sweet, both of them, patient while Die took a deep breath and tried to understand his own feelings, but at length he said, “I’m sorry. I just don’t think I can continue. Please, ah, carry on without me.” His hand fumbled for the door handle behind him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you not feeling well?” Adriana asked, brushing the backs of her fingers along his cheek.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Alessandro helped him open the door. “Would you like me to walk with you back to your hotel room?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die smiled gratefully. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’ll be all right on my own. Goodnight.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Neither of them tried to stop Die from exiting the room, and he started back down the hall, not in some great hurry, but with a subtle sense of relief that he hadn’t just gone through with something he doubtless would have regretted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The relief was short-lived however, since once he got back to his own room and found himself alone, Die couldn’t help how his thoughts drifted back to Kyo. It had only been a week since they last saw each other, and yet Die’s heart was literally <em>aching</em> with how much he missed him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> More than anything he wanted to <em>talk</em> to Kyo, to hear his voice, to make him laugh, to find out the smallest, most trivial details about his day—but he doubted Kyo would really want to hear from him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Flopping down on the hotel bed, Die checked the time on his phone, did the mental math to calculate the time in Japan. It was morning in Tokyo, and Kyo was <em>probably</em> awake, as long as he had a full schedule of appointments, but that was no guarantee that he’d have his phone handy, or that he’d be in a place to respond if Die were to contact him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Wasn't it being clingy to try to reach him anyway? They were friends, Die was fairly sure it was safe to call them that, but it wasn't like he had anything important or even especially interesting to tell him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die opened up his conversation with Kyo, chewed his lip as he scrolled up a few lines to see what Kyo had sent him last. It both comforted and hurt him to see something as simple as Kyo wishing him a safe trip. There was so much Die wanted to say to him, and it wasn’t really appropriate for him to say any of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He lost track of how long he spent staring at old messages before he finally typed a new one.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Hey, hope everything’s ok in Tokyo. Just thinking of you, missing our talks. Can’t wait to get home.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t specify that what he really wanted when he got home was to see Kyo, but he figured it might come through implicitly anyway.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He sent the message with no expectation of a reply, and sighed, staring up at the ceiling. In the past, he’d always looked forward to trips abroad, just that break in his routine, the chance to get away. It was never long enough, the <em>escape</em>. Never before had he felt his heart so vigorously tugging him homeward.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe he'd never before had anything at home worth missing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That felt wrong to say; obviously Die had had relationships before, he valued his friends, he enjoyed his work. But there was something different about Kyo, about how he made Die feel <em>curious</em> and <em>hopeful</em>, and like there was a whole world of things to learn and discover, even somewhere as simple as a hair salon.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was startled as his phone vibrated with a message alert, interrupting his drifting thoughts, and sure enough, Kyo had written him back.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Was wondering if I’d ever hear from you. Tokyo is same as ever but I assume you’re having more excitement in Italy. You'll have to tell me everything when you get back.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was actually one of the longest messages Die had ever received from Kyo, and he felt his heart skip a beat as he read it through.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wanted to hear about his travels. Kyo was already thinking about the time they’d spend together once Die got home.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wrote back eagerly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Not so sure there's a lot to tell. Most of these ppl aren’t that interesting. I’d rather talk to you.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe that was too honest. Die didn’t know what it was about Kyo that moved him to say these overly emotionally-raw things, but sometimes it was like he couldn’t even help it. He <em>would</em> rather talk to Kyo, than to a single person in Milan.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In an attempt to change the subject and distract from his clinginess, Die sent another message.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>So what are you up to today? Lots of appts?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Yeah but one late cancel so far already</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Wait what the hell</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Dude isn’t it like 3 am where you are? What are you doing up talking to me?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Oh, right, Die had kind of hoped Kyo wouldn't notice that, since the late hour made him seem more weird and desperate. Then again, it was sort of touching that Kyo would figure out the time difference and show concern for Die’s wellbeing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>We had the runway show tonight, then afterparty, so i’m up late i guess.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>You must be exhausted.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Nah, still kinda wired. I been drinkin a little lol</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Ah, so you’re drunk-texting me…?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die winced. That wasn’t the implication he’d been meaning to give at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>No i was just still up and i missed you.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Dammit, that sounded bad. Very uncool. Why was Die so uncool whenever he talked to Kyo?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>I see… I really think you should go to bed. You need some rest, sleep off the booze.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b>It wasn’t that much!</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>When do you get back?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Day after tomorrow, late.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a longer pause then, and Die tried not to take it personally. Kyo might be transferring trains, or talking to someone, or starting an appointment, or getting in the shower—<em>no, that’s not a good thing to think about</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was almost strange how comforted Die felt just from such a short and simple conversation with Kyo, and maybe he really would try to go to bed and get some rest. He could definitely use it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> If he’d learned one thing from this trip though, it was that he couldn’t carry on like this. He was losing his mind, thinking about Kyo all the time, and much as he valued their friendship, he needed to confess his feelings. Sure, it was highly possible that nothing would come of it, but Kyo deserved the truth, and Die just needed to be honest.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When his phone buzzed again it was just the brief message:</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>See you then?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s heart was pounding so hard he was pleased he even managed to type his lame-ass reply.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>It’s a date.</em></span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ps whaaat miyavi is here again? He's probably not gonna be around much more, but he's tall okay</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Even after Kyo’s discovery that he liked Die as more than a friend, he hadn’t really expected to miss him as much as he did when Die was out of the country. It was a small thing. The trip wasn’t absurdly long, and generally speaking, Kyo was one to keep more to himself anyway. It was pretty silly to feel bummed that he couldn’t spend time with his friend for a little while.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But he’d gotten used to seeing him, getting almost daily messages from him, had gotten used to their friend-dates and deep conversations, and he missed that routine. He missed Die’s <em>company</em>, how he made him laugh, made him feel <em>seen</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wasn't sure what exactly he'd been expecting, as far as contact during Die's trip, but he hadn't foreseen such an extended period of not hearing anything from him. He was capable of being reasonable, realizing that it wasn’t always easy to just shoot someone a text from overseas, and that Die was probably consumed with a thousand more riveting activities than sitting down to message Kyo would be.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But when one morning he finally got a message saying Die was thinking of him, Kyo hardly knew what to do. Some part of him wanted to reply that he was thinking of Die, too, <em>always</em>, that being away from him sucked to a degree that he hadn’t anticipated, but Die was texting him drunk in the middle of the night, and there was just no good reason for Kyo to go into that kind of detail.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even so, he was elated to hear that Die was missing him, and that he’d be coming home soon. It couldn’t come soon enough, as far as Kyo was concerned.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya had been almost uncharacteristically sympathetic the whole time Die had been away. Kyo supposed his suffering must just have high entertainment value. As the time drew near for Die to actually return to Japan, Toshiya made himself fully available, “in case Kyo needed anything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What sort of thing, exactly, are you thinking I’m going to need?” Kyo asked, as Toshiya reminded him yet again that he was <em>there</em> for him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, let’s be honest here,” Toshiya said. “Even <em>you</em> don’t know what you might need, isn’t that right?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So then I don't see how you're going to help with that."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "You're seeing him tonight,” Toshiya said. “The very same night he gets back. I’d take that as a really good sign.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s just coffee,” Kyo said, shrugging it off. The familiarity of his protest was not lost on him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The truth was he wanted to take it as a good sign, wanted to read into it that he really held some value to Die if he was willing to put him so high on his list of priorities when he first got into town. But what would it accomplish to overthink that? How deep could he really make grabbing coffee together?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Plus, he still didn’t know just what he wanted to hope for. He knew he missed Die, that he was <em>excited</em> to see him, more than he’d thought he would be, but he couldn’t tell exactly what that meant. Was he just excited to return to their established manner of hanging out, or was he hoping something would change?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He couldn’t shake the bizarre feeling that something was different now. Maybe it was only on his end, but the very thought of meeting Die for coffee filled Kyo with a vague uncertainty. He couldn’t see how any change between them could be anything but bad.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you gonna tell him?” Toshiya asked softly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t see how it would even come up,” Kyo said. “I’m not—I just want to see him. Talk like we usually do, hear about Italy and everything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re interested in Italy?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m interested… in what Die’s been doing,” Kyo said. “And I don’t want to make things weird between us, so for the time being, all I wanna talk about is normal shit. His trip, whatever. My feelings aren’t especially important.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya looked like he wanted to argue, so Kyo asked him, “What about you, any dates coming up that you want to talk about?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’ve been so much more interested in my personal life since you found out it distracts me from talking about yours.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Anything to get you off my back,” Kyo agreed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya sighed. “Unfortunately there's nothing to report. I haven’t got anyone that I’m even stringing along at the moment, too preoccupied with… other matters. Do you think Die has any model friends he might want to set me up with?” He waggled his eyebrows.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can… definitely ask him,” Kyo said with a grimace.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "It must be really something, having a job like that,” Toshiya said wistfully. “Going on trips to exotic places, spending all your time with these beautiful people…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo grunted. He’d had the same thought, only moreso lately.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Er, which is not to suggest that those people would be Die’s <em>type</em>,” Toshiya backpedaled hurriedly. “I’m sure, to him, they’re just, um. Regular-looking people. Super boring.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Obviously Kyo didn’t know to what extent Die was attracted to the models with whom he worked. He couldn’t say that it was something he liked speculating about. To Kyo, it seemed to go without saying that Die would pair better with some tall, gorgeous model, that there was no reason for him to look twice at Kyo when he had so many better matches available.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But then, he thought of what Die had said in his message, that the people at his runway show weren’t interesting. That he'd rather talk to Kyo. Was he just being nice, or did he truly feel that way?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why don’t you get into modeling?” Kyo asked Toshiya abruptly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya’s eyes went wide. “<em>Me</em>?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, why not? Masaki does it, right? Maybe he could get you in with the right people.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya’s normally confident posture shifted to self-conscious and awkward. “Nah, I don’t… I couldn’t really be good at something like that, you know? I’m too—“</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you kidding? You’d be a natural,” Kyo said. “And you can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it, I can see how hard you work on your body.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s just for me,” Toshiya said. “I really wouldn’t be cut out for the kind of stuff they do. It’s hard work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hard work isn’t for you, huh? You’d rather be stuck behind the counter at a salon for the rest of your life?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Now you’re speakin’ my language.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sometimes it was hard to tell how much of Toshiya’s kidding around was genuine and how much was some defense mechanism. “I know you don’t even like the salon,” Kyo said in a quiet voice.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya looked at him in surprise. “What? What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You won’t talk about it, but…” Kyo shrugged. “I get it. The owners are on your case all the time, they’re assholes, and you shouldn’t have to put up with that. But then maybe it’s time to start thinking about what else you might like to do.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya shook his head. “That’s not it. I mean, you’re right about the owners, but I—I <em>like</em> the salon.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But none of us knows what’s going to happen," Kyo said. “If they sell—which is starting to look more and more likely—we don’t know that our jobs will still be there for us!” He pushed his glasses up on his nose. “I’ve been trying to think about other options, and you might want to do the same. The salon changing hands is a good excuse for you to get <em>out</em>, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If the salon changes hands, then I <em>definitely</em> won’t be getting out,” Toshiya said irritably. He sighed, and added, “I mean, who better to help the new owner get through the transition? Basically run this place anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo studied him another moment, then looked away. “I just think you should consider it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll keep that in mind.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya stayed pretty quiet the rest of the day, perhaps still mulling over Kyo’s suggestion, or perhaps afraid that Kyo would bring it up again should he talk to him. Whatever the reason, Kyo was sort of grateful for the uninterrupted time alone with his thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He probably shouldn’t have been; undoubtedly he spent far too much time consumed by his thoughts already. But it was only right that he should spend a while longer fretting over his upcoming coffee date. He wasn’t planning on saying anything to Die about his feelings for him, but it hadn't been exactly true when he'd told Toshiya he couldn’t see how it would come up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In actuality, he was at least 40% terrified that he’d end up blurting it out without meaning to. Was it better to have a plan to tell him, just to prevent it from coming out the wrong way?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But if Die was only interested in friendship, it just didn’t make sense for Kyo to put himself out there in the first place. He didn’t need to seek out that kind of pain.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And so he went in unprepared—unprepared for how Die pulled him in for one of the tightest hugs he’d ever received, unprepared for how <em>good</em> Die looked, smiling and warm, practically glowing. It made Kyo wonder just when he’d started noticing things like that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was the same coffee place they'd met the first time they’d hung out, but again, Kyo felt like things were different now, not just because of the late hour and emptiness of the coffee shop, but like the air was <em>charged</em> with something he couldn’t put into words.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They sat down with their drinks and Kyo was happy to let Die lead the conversation. He showed off some photos of scenery and architecture on his phone, talked about his jet lag and seemed in such a good mood that Kyo could feel it seeping into his own body like an airborne contagion.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That made it all the more jarring when Kyo asked some perfectly neutral question about the runway show itself, and Die turned dark and serious, his face falling and his eyes darting away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What’s—Did it go badly?” Kyo asked. “Oh, geez, did you fall? That happened to one of the other dancers at my old job, he actually ended up breaking his ankle…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shook his head, but still didn’t crack a smile. “Listen, there’s something I’ve been thinking—that I wanted to talk to you about.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo swallowed. "About... the fashion show?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not exactly. Being there just made some things more clear for me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay,” Kyo said, because what else could he say?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die paused, wet his lips, and Kyo tried to be patient while he gathered his thoughts, but he didn’t think he liked the turn this conversation had taken.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “In my work,” Die began slowly, “I’m not ever really alone. At this show, too, there were some thirty other models around, all the time, plus designers, dressers, hair and makeup… It’s a huge production.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, I’d imagine so.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And I’m—” Die cut himself off, making a face. He looked so uncomfortable, his eyes unmoving from the tabletop, that Kyo almost wanted to tell him to just forget it, to text him about it later. But it was clearly something he felt was important, and after a moment he forced himself to go on, “I’ve always been—the kind of person who takes comfort in others. I like spending time with people.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded uncertainly. “I think that’s pretty normal?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right, but.” Die cleared his throat. “I mean, Shinya always kind of gives me shit for being kind of a slut, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh,” Kyo said, hoping he didn’t come off quite as blindsided as he felt by that. “Well, that’s not very cool of him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die gave another small shake of his head. “It’s fine, we joke like that, but. It just ends up, with my work, being around so many… people…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So many <em>attractive</em> people, Kyo’s mind supplied helpfully.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Especially somewhere like this last trip,” Die said, “where there are so many of us in close quarters for a more extended period of time…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo really hated where this was going. He couldn’t fathom why Die would feel like this was information he needed to share. Had Kyo somehow given him the wrong impression, that this was the kind of thing he wanted to hear about?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “There’s so much flirting that goes on,” Die said, apparently oblivious to Kyo’s growing discomfort. “And most of it is really casual, and I don’t mean that my standards are so low I’ll sleep with anyone who flirts with me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Like—It really isn’t serious most of the time, it’s almost more—something to do, or a distraction, that kind of thing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You know, you really don’t have to—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But this time was <em>different</em>,” Die said firmly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And Kyo realized with dawning horror why Die was being so serious: He’d <em>found</em> someone. One of his casual work flings had developed into something real, and he was—what? Letting Kyo down easy? Coming to him with his joy, expecting his support as a friend?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Desperately, Kyo tried to find his voice, either to beg Die to stop talking, or to ask <em>who, how, why</em>?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I wanted a distraction,” Die continued before Kyo could get any words out. “And I went looking. I was flirting, drinking, dancing with people, found myself back in this guy’s hotel room, set for a threesome with this other female model—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo barely kept himself from clapping his hands over his ears. “I don’t need to know the details—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “—And I couldn’t do it," Die said. He raised his eyes to finally meet Kyo’s, not ashamed, but somehow repentant. “I couldn’t go through with it, and I ended up leaving, going back to my own room.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was lost. He’d thought he was following the deeply disturbing story he was listening to, but now…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And texting <em>you</em>,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t say more, and Kyo <em>really</em> wanted to just read between the lines and interpret on his own where Die was going with it, but he was scared and fumbled over his reply.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You—but—you said you were thinking of me,” he managed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you the whole time I was gone. No distraction could have been enough.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo found it hard to believe that Die wouldn’t have been sufficiently distracted by a three-way with two other (presumably hot) models, but really the situation was just not remotely relatable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So what does that mean?” he asked, unwilling to draw his own conclusions. “What are you saying?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die let out a long breath. “I understand that it’s not—what you want. And I really like what we have, I’m so glad to call you my friend, I wish you could know what it means to me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I like what we have, too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded again. “I just wanted to be honest. And if it doesn’t change anything, that’s—I mean, that’s good. I don’t want things to change. But I wanted to tell you how I feel, because god, Kyo, I like you more than... I really, really like you, and you’re all—Yeah. So, now you know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo took a drink of his coffee to give himself time process. The ice cubes had been melting, watered it down, but that was not a concern for him at the moment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die liked him, and he didn’t want things to change between them, and neither did Kyo, so that was good. What had already been a pretty much ideal situation had perhaps gotten even better, and Kyo hadn’t even had to say anything about his own feelings. They could continue on as they had been this entire time, and not have to worry about the effects of this confession.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, then, nothing needs to change,” Kyo reiterated.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right," Die said. “As long as you’re still comfortable with our friendship as it is.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Because—What, if things <em>did</em> change,” Kyo said, frowning at his coffee, “what would that look like? What kind of change would that be?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die gaped at him for a few seconds. “That—I guess, <em>if</em>—we could be <em>dating</em>? I’d. Of course, I’d like that. But it’s not what you want. Is it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’d still hang out how we do, but we’d be a couple,” Kyo said, for clarification. “No… other models. Just us, but with added romance.” Again, it was probably obvious, but Kyo wanted to make sure there was no misunderstanding this time. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah,” Die said. He looked at Kyo strangely. “Is that something you would… want?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded once. “Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay?!” Die sputtered, nearly knocking over his own coffee.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure, let’s try it,” Kyo confirmed. “Let’s be dating.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Die and Toshiya really didn't disappoint, did they? How lucky we are, that they can give us the energy to keep going in these times!<br/>I feel like with this chapter things start to kind of move a little faster. Maybe?<br/>I will try to do three updates again this week, but spoilers, next chapter is a little different and it still needs some surgery sooo I'll have to see if I feel ready to post it in a couple days, but that's the goal!<br/>Btw thanks for all your comments and support, aah it makes me so happy to share things with you guys, love to everyone~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He said, ‘okay.’”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So I’ve heard.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He said, ‘<em>okay</em>,’” Die repeated frantically. “We were talking about whether he’d want to date, and—and do you know what he <em>said</em>?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “OKAY.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “A true poet.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shook his head, straightened his chopsticks were they were balanced across his bowl. “I’m sorry, Shin, I know, I’m a wreck and you’re far too tolerant, but I just—<em>fuck</em>, I still can’t believe it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya smiled indulgently. “You don’t need to apologize. I’m happy for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can’t have gotten it wrong this time, right?” Die said. “We both used the word, ‘dating,’ he said we’d be a <em>couple</em>, he said <em>romance</em>. Look.” He dug his phone out of his jeans pocket. “I even had him text me later to confirm, so I’d know I wasn’t dreaming.” He showed Shinya the text from Kyo, clearly saying, “<em>Yes, we are dating now. Goodnight Boyfriend.</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think that’s extreme, and a bit weird, but also sort of sweet,” Shinya said. “Considering he went along with it, maybe you two are just weird enough to be a good match.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How did this happen?” Die asked, half to himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I thought you just opened up, were honest with him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I really—I never expected him to want a relationship,” Die said. For so long he’d been sitting on his feelings, thinking Kyo wouldn’t be interested in him that way. This sort of quiet acceptance of it all wasn't something he'd been prepared for. “I just wanted to tell him how I feel.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You two have been friends for a little while now,” Shinya pointed out. “Maybe you finally grew on him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He never said anything,” Die said. “I really thought we’d just—that is, I wasn’t lying when I said I liked being friends.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course not.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But the idea that we can be <em>more</em> than that? That we can date, and he said it was <em>okay</em>, and I’ll get to—” Die froze, suddenly unsure. “Wait, wait.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Wait what? No one’s doing anything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, shit, Shinya, what do I do now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do, with regard to what?” Shinya said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So we're a couple now, but—I don’t want to fuck this up,” Die said. "He's not—this is so different from people I’ve been with before, where it’s purely physical everything. I don't want to rush things with Kyo."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya nodded. "Very sensible. So far you’ve had decent success with taking things slow, so I recommend continuing that way."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I do want to make it clear that—that we’re dating now, right? Otherwise we’re still just friends, and then it’s—I want him to know I’m taking it seriously.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I wouldn’t have expected to ever be in a position to give you dating advice,” Shinya mused, picking up his drink. He took a sip. “I think you should be able to come to this on your own, but, seeing that your mental faculties are noticeably fried at this time, I’m making the official suggestion that you give Kyo a goodnight kiss the next time you go out.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die had thought about kissing Kyo before, because of course he had, it couldn’t be helped, but hearing Shinya say it so casually like that set his cheeks on fire.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “A goodni—Do you really think so? Am I allowed to do that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya shrugged. “You could ask first, if that would feel safer to you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die let himself imagine it; Kyo smiling up at him, as he walked him to the front steps of his building; sliding his hand around to cup the back of Kyo’s neck; pulling him forward, eyes closing as their lips met…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I really think you’re making too big a deal of this,” Shinya said, interrupting his fantasy. “I don’t even care to try and count all the people you’ve kissed before, so you shouldn’t have any trouble knowing what to do this time.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die knew he didn’t need to tell Shinya again that Kyo was <em>different</em>. It was a cliché, and yet he couldn’t help but feel that it was true. He’d never had a relationship that started this way, with friendship, with… mutual respect?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Yeah, sure, Die was <em>attracted</em> to Kyo, he wouldn’t deny that. It was too easy to let his mind wander into dangerous territory thinking about him, but for once there was more to it than just Kyo’s body. He didn’t want to lose sight of that now that they were dating.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He really tried for the rest of his dinner with Shinya to play the part of someone in control of himself, and not behave quite as pathetically as he had been, but in all honesty, he was in love and still jet lagged and it was basically hopeless from the get-go.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya was forgiveness personified, and didn’t judge him too harshly for it. He even helped Die brainstorm some activity for his and Kyo’s next date—their <em>first</em> official date, as a couple.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There were so many things that they <em>could</em> do, traditional things, romantic things, fun things, and it was tricky to tell where he should be trying to place them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe you should just let Kyo plan the first date,” Shinya said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die only just stopped himself from flat-out pouting. “I <em>want</em> to plan it,” he said. “I want to take him somewhere nice.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How nice? You don’t want to make it so fancy that it’s hard to follow with future dates.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s true,” Die said, and sighed. “I don’t know. I’m not trying to take him to Hawaii or anything—not yet—but it’d nice if it was somewhere kind of <em>different</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To the surprise of everyone involved what he eventually decided on was a tiny little jazz café, hidden away at the edge of the city with live music every night and some of the best cheesecake Die had ever eaten in his life.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The lights were low and the tables were spread out enough for privacy without it being aggressively romantic, and best of all, Kyo had never even heard of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was hard to get over how beautiful Kyo looked in that soft lighting, his eyes bright as he watched the jazz trio on the café’s small stage, chin on his fist. Die could have been satisfied spending the whole night just watching him, memorizing his profile, basking in his quiet happiness.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In time, though, Kyo turned back to him, smile still tugging at one corner of his mouth. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shook his head. “Just enjoying the music.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, what the hell?” Kyo picked up his coffee. “How did you find this place. The band is pretty awesome.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t even remember,” Die admitted. “I’ve been coming here for years, when I want somewhere <em>away</em> from everything else.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t come here with all your model friends or something?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?” Die had to recoil slightly at the thought. “No, they’re—I don’t think most of the people I know from work are… the right sort of people for a place like this. It’s subdued, and they don’t know how to be.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So I, on the other hand, am subdued.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, that’s not—Is that a bad thing?” Die felt like this could be some kind of test, but he didn’t have the first idea what the right answer was.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m just sort of interested in your perception of me,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die couldn’t tell if he was <em>actually</em> interested or not. He didn’t generally think Kyo seemed to care much what anyone else thought of him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m interested in your perception of me, too,” he said truthfully.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For some reason Kyo looked surprised. “What does that matter?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die let out a startled laugh. “Wha—You just said the same thing! Besides, we agreed to <em>date</em>. Obviously your opinion of me matters.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s mouth twisted up to one side. “I just don’t think it’s worth much. You’re—well, you know yourself, know your accomplishments. My perceptions and opinions are just that: <em>mine</em>, and have no real bearing on anyone or anything else.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It seemed like kind of a bad sign, that Kyo would go to such great lengths to avoid telling Die what he thought of him. Even if Die could mostly understand Kyo’s justification for his lack of directness, it struck him as disconcerting that he would rather make some long excuse than just give his opinion.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Was he putting him too much on the spot for a first date? Maybe he’d gotten too comfortable because they’d spent all that time together as friends, and he wasn’t giving Kyo the space necessary for switching to a romantic setting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry,” Kyo said abruptly, drawing Die’s attention back out to the external world.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t have to apologize,” Die said. “I didn’t mean to push.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I didn’t mean to be cryptic and make things uncomfortable,” Kyo said. “I just… don’t really know what I’m supposed to say. I don’t know what you <em>want</em> me to say, and it’s happened so many times that I’ve said the wrong thing, and I don’t want to do that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. It was kind of refreshing to hear that Kyo was experiencing some of the same insecurities he was.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The short version,” Kyo said seriously, “is that I like you. Despite my first impression that you were shallow and arrogant, with questionable ethics when it came to cosmetics usage, I now think you’re funny and compassionate and easy to talk to. So. I hope that’s okay.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After a few seconds, Die started laughing again, mostly because he didn’t know how else to respond to something like that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo frowned. “I’m not kidding.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, no, I know, that’s part of why I’m laughing,” Die said as he struggled to regain his composure. “That was just so backhanded and honest and I’m… Fuck, I’m glad you like me now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh. Me too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo ordered cheesecake, and the server brought two tiny forks without being asked. One was handed to Die quite naturally.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Although Die knew how good the cheesecake was there, he’d only had the chance to eat it very rarely, when he was there with company on some odd occasion.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I feel like it’s weird for me to go somewhere alone and order dessert just for myself,” he said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? Why?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Like that’s something women can do, but it’s weird for a grown man to sit alone in a café eating sweets.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo scoffed. “Fuck that. If it’s not weird for women, why would it be any weirder for a man?” He took a very deliberate bite of cheesecake. “What’s the point of denying yourself things you like just because it’s outside the norm, or <em>someone</em> might think it’s ‘weird’? Who’s that someone to you? You’re not hurting anyone, go eat the damn sweets.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was an unexpectedly encouraging little speech, and Die couldn’t even hide his smile as he took another tiny forkful of cake.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Anyway,” Kyo said, “you like this kind of music?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He made no gesture towards the stage as he spoke, so it took Die a moment to realize he meant the music the band was currently playing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um. Yeah, I guess I do,” Die said. “They do a lot of fun things rhythmically, but it’s still easy to listen to.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm.” Kyo tipped his head to one side, bit his lip. “I guess I wouldn’t have thought it was your style, given your rockstar ambitions.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you? A man can like more than one type of music.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How true that is.” A tiny smile was on Kyo’s face again, and man, Die liked seeing it there. The evidence that Kyo might be thinking this date was going as well as he did had him feeling light enough to almost float away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There really was no awkwardness to the silences between them, and in spite of Die’s initial nervousness, he had no doubt by the time they were leaving the café that this was only their first date of many.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For once, Kyo allowed Die to drive him home, and they kept talking music all the way to his place. Die played a variety of genres on his phone, just to make a point about his broad tastes, and commented on things he liked about each one. Kyo asked questions and contributed his own thoughts without hesitation, an equal exchange of ideas and opinions.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was tempted to “accidentally” miss the last turn onto Kyo’s street, just to prolong their time together, but he restrained himself. Much as he didn’t want his evening with Kyo to end, he was even more unwilling to do something that would damage the pleasant atmosphere between them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He did take the time to park, though, so he could get out and walk Kyo to the door of his building, and though he looked sort of bemused by it, Kyo didn’t complain.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you for letting me take you out,” Die said as they walked up to the door. “I had a really wonderful time.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I did, too,” Kyo said. “Thanks for a fun evening.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. He still felt butterflies in his stomach just from the soft little smile Kyo gave him. It was funny how Kyo didn’t seem to be nervous or awkward at all. If Die didn’t know better, he’d think he was some kind of serial dater. Everything he did amazed Die, made him that much more attracted to him, and yet Kyo didn’t seem to be trying at all. His every action was so perfectly <em>not </em>calculated, so natural and free, that Die could hardly believe it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then, does that mean you’ll be willing to go on a second date?” Die asked. “Sometime hopefully soon?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At that, Kyo gave him a funny look. “Did you think I was going to say no? This is practically just like what we’ve <em>been</em> doing, only we agreed we’d be a couple now. A couple doesn’t go on only one date, right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die laughed at the simplistic explanation. “No, you’re right.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I really enjoy spending time with you,” Kyo said, and his tone gave it such weight that Die felt a little breathless.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Same here,” Die said. “Obviously. I. Um, would it be all right for me to kiss you goodnight?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Surprise crossed Kyo’s face briefly, then he shrugged. “I guess so.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe it wasn’t quite the enthusiasm Die might have hoped for, but Kyo didn’t seem uncomfortable, so he didn’t interpret negatively. He leaned in slowly, his heart leaping when Kyo met him halfway, their lips pressing together in something incredibly soft, without being entirely chaste. There was warmth in it, and a spark of heat underneath that Die wasn’t expecting somehow.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When they parted, he looked at Kyo with wide eyes, unsure what he could say. He wanted him. And it wasn't unusual for Die to want, even to want <em>Kyo</em>, but that single kiss had filled him with more desire than he’d anticipated, and it took all his willpower to not rush in for another kiss, a <em>deeper</em> one. He wanted to press Kyo back against the wall of the building and kiss him until he was moaning against his mouth, rubbing himself against his thigh—</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll see you soon?” Kyo said, cutting off what was a risky train of thought anyway.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Soon,” Die said, nodding. “Definitely. Sometime this week?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll text you about when I have time,” Kyo said. With a certain hesitation, he reached for Die’s hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. “Goodnight. Drive safe.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I will.” Die squeezed Kyo’s hand back, and let it go without any fuss. “Have a good night.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He let Kyo go inside, then, didn’t muck things up with premature declarations of love, or demands for further physical affection. He wanted more, but this was only their <em>first date</em>, he reminded himself. There would be time for things to develop, and Kyo was well worth being patient for.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He couldn’t recall ever having had a date that went that well and <em>didn’t</em> end in sex, but he had to adjust his thinking when it came to Kyo, and he was willing to do that. The kiss had been more than enough to keep him satisfied for the time being.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Toshiya</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello, I'm here, hi, sorry. I could make a bunch of excuses, but most of y'all probably know what's been going on in the US this week. I'm safe and okay, but I've been, to put it mildly, preoccupied. I will try not to have update delays again, and I know this sort of interlude is not much when I've been MIA for the past week, but thank you for sticking with me anyway.<br/>I also apologize because generally I reply to comments on the previous chapter whenever I update, and that has been delayed as well. Your comments mean a lot to me and I don't want anyone to think I've been ignoring them. (To the commenter who deleted their comment on the last chapter before I got a chance to reply, I won't call you out by name, but I did read your comment before it disappeared, and I was seriously moved, thank you for sharing even briefly.)<br/>Everyone out there, please stay safe. We're all doing what we can in terrifying circumstances. Love to you all, and take care of yourselves and each other.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The midday sun was strong as Toshiya walked out of the bank, heaving a sigh. He was feeling a little bit emotionally exhausted, and would have liked to head home right then, but he knew he needed to be back at the salon, and he checked the time on his phone to see how much of his lunch hour was left.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Not long enough.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He also found that he’d missed three calls while he’d been in his meeting, from various people he didn’t particularly feel like calling back. Only one of them had also sent a text.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was his most recent attempt at dating, hoping to see him for another dinner, and if Toshiya was honest, he didn’t really know how to respond. Usually he could tell within the first few <em>minutes</em> of meeting someone whether he was interested. It was either love at first sight or just <em>nothing</em>, and then, even if the guy was cute, what was the point of dragging it out?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In a way, he envied Kyo, and his ability to gradually find a connection with someone. Ever since he and Die had become a couple, Kyo had been—not exactly <em>happier</em>, but maybe warmer. More open, even with Toshiya, and it sort of made Toshiya even more aware of his own loneliness, although he tried not to think of it in such selfish terms as much as he could help it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d hoped that the new text would be from Kyo, and it wouldn’t have surprised him, if it had been. With that new warmth and openness, Kyo had been more socially engaged than usual, accepting some of Toshiya’s invitations to hang out outside of work, even offering some invitations of his own. He’d introduced Toshiya to one of his nerdy video games and they’d established a weekly night to play together. Toshiya would have thought that dating Die meant Kyo had <em>less</em> time for other social activities, but apparently the opposite was true.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya only wished that he had the same kind of time and energy himself. Recently it felt like every spare hour he could find, every break at work, every free evening at home was spent making phone calls and scheduling meetings—and avoiding phone calls and meetings. He’d never expected dealing with his late aunt’s estate would be such an undertaking, and he was completely drained, even when he technically had nothing else scheduled. That meant less time to spend with Kyo now that he wanted it, and less time for Toshiya to progress his own love life.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was sort of funny. Now that Kyo had come to terms with his feelings and started dating Die properly, Toshiya had backed way off. Even though surely more of the juicy stuff was going on now. It had been a true test of his restraint to not ask for excessive details about the state of Kyo’s relationship, but he felt proud of himself for how far he’d come.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Because okay, yeah, when Kyo had first come into the salon and oh so casually mentioned that he and Die had agreed to be a couple, Toshiya had lost his shit a little bit.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You mean you decided to tell him your feelings after all?! Never saw that coming..."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “As it happened, I didn’t need to,” Kyo had said. “I guess the reason he wanted to see me as soon as he got back was… that he wanted to tell me how <em>he</em> felt.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya’s mouth dropped open. “I knew it!” he hissed, in his efforts to not scream triumphantly amidst the salon’s startled customers. “I <em>fucking</em> knew he didn’t want to be just friends—you see? You tried to tell me I was wrong, but I can tell when chemistry is there, and when it’s—It’s all about that <em>spark</em>, you know what I mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know about a spark,” Kyo said. “But we agreed to try it, and you know. Nothing needs to really change.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, you’re just gonna keep having your nerd-fest hangouts? Come on, that’s…” Toshiya had had to hesitate then. “Did he really say that was what he wanted?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We all like what we have right now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “All right, the minute I am off the clock tonight, I want to hear every damn detail of your conversation,” Toshiya said. “You know, just to go over everything, make sure you know what you’re getting into. It’s a good idea, right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t fight him on it, but that evening when he’d obligingly led Toshiya through the whole coffee shop meeting, Toshiya had discovered that Kyo… actually seemed to have a handle on things himself. He didn’t need dating advice from him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why exactly is it so shocking to you that I don’t need you to hold my hand through this?” Kyo asked, though he could have been much angrier than he seemed to be. “It isn’t my first relationship.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But it’s the first one I’ve seen you in,” Toshiya said. “It’s a side of you I’ve never encountered before, and I just… I’m happy for you, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had rolled his eyes, but Toshiya could tell that somewhere underneath all that aloofness, Kyo was happy too. He just hoped that Kyo could recognize that happiness in himself before he turned all gloomy and self-destructive.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He worried about Kyo. He cared about him, and he wanted him to be happy, but he <em>knew</em> that a lot of Kyo’s prickly attitude covered insecurities and fear. It was wonderful to see him letting his walls down a little bit for someone, but it was still possible that both Die and Kyo would end up hurt if Kyo panicked and threw his defenses up again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, although he backed off from nosing around in Kyo’s business, Toshiya still eagerly awaited any updates that Kyo offered freely, and was ready to rush in with support given a chance. It was still easier than focusing on his own shit anyway.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As weeks passed, he’d become a little concerned at what he <em>wasn’t</em> hearing. Despite his opening up to more social time spent with Toshiya, Kyo still wasn’t an over-sharer, and Toshiya got dangerously close to his limits, ready to snap and demand to know how the relationship was going, when Kyo happened to mention in an offhanded sort of way that he and Die had kissed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At first, he really thought he’d misheard him, because the notion of Kyo kissing someone was so hard to wrap his brain around, but when he managed to ask for clarification, Kyo just shrugged and nodded.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s happened a few times now,” he said. “It’s not a problem at all. It’s actually nice.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya narrowed his eyes at him. He didn’t want to say anything to make Kyo defensive or that might come off as judgmental, but he wished he could read him better. <em>Nice</em>? Was that really all Kyo felt about kissing Die? He couldn’t say it out loud to Kyo, but he’d sort of hoped that he’d discover Die was the <em>One</em>, that kissing him would kindle some feeling in him that Kyo had either forgotten about or… Well, wouldn’t that have been better? If Die could help Kyo move past whatever it was that kept him so… detached?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The truth was that Toshiya just didn’t really understand it. But then maybe he didn’t need to, not entirely. He just needed to listen to Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ever since then, though, he’d been awaiting updates even less patiently than before. It was hard to say whether or not Kyo had been communicating with Die as much as was probably necessary, and although, again, he didn’t want to say so to Kyo, he wondered if they were rapidly approaching a point where Kyo’s failure to set boundaries might blow up in his face. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And speaking of boundaries, Toshiya reread the text from his last hopeful date. There was no harm in agreeing to another dinner. And yet…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He texted back, declining as gently as he could, and then blocked the guy’s number for good measure. He needed to be realistic and admit that this wasn’t a good time for him to try and pursue romance. Later, after everything was settled, when he didn’t feel like he was being pulled in different directions, and wasn’t scrounging for a brief hour to rest here and there. Then he could finally think about finding love for himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was just enough time to drive through and grab a quick lunch on his way back to the salon, and he ate it in his car, taking only his water bottle with him when he got out to head back to work. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He looked up at the sign boasting the salon’s name as he unlocked the front door. He’d spent the last five years of his life here, and he couldn’t help but wonder about his own choices. He hadn’t forgotten what Kyo had said to him, that he needed to take the chance to think about what he wanted, about his future. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was just so much easier to worry about someone else.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya got the salon ready to reopen for afternoon appointments, and waited for Kyo to come in so he could listen supportively to the cursory report of his latest date with Die. It would always be a welcome distraction from his own life decisions and obligations.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some uncomfortable things lie ahead, I feel I should warn you, a little more angst is coming into it, whoops<br/>(I do not at all recommend Kyo's handling of things, beware of bad decisions you guys)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">By the time they’d been on eight official dates, Kyo could feel some anxiety starting to wear at him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was good. Everything had been <em>really</em> good, honestly. Kyo loved the dates they’d been going on, even more than he’d expected. For so long, he’d accepted without complaint a life without relationships, without <em>hope</em> of a relationship. He hadn’t needed any of that, and while that was still true, he found Die brought something <em>special</em> to his life; a nearness, a <em>trust</em>, a simple kind of joy just at seeing him and speaking with him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The anxiety was an inevitability. It had been more than a month, and in that happy time they’d never done anything more intimate than kissing. Kyo could see in Die’s dark eyes that he wanted more, but still he was always a gentleman, kept his hands to himself, let Kyo control how fast they were moving.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was grateful for it. It was a consideration that Kyo’s past partners had been decidedly lacking, but it was also something they hadn’t discussed at all. Kyo had never mentioned how glad he was that Die wasn’t pressuring him, and Die had never voiced his need for more, and that unspoken arrangement was lighting some panic fuse inside Kyo’s brain.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a knock on the door and Kyo answered it before Toshiya could even lower his hand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, um,” said Toshiya, looking startled as he stepped into the genkan. “Am I late or something?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head. “I’ve just been waiting for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya’s shoulders slumped. “Why do I get the feeling tonight isn’t going to be ‘chilling with video games’ as advertised?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We can still play video games,” Kyo said. “It’s just… not the only reason I invited you over.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess I've just been waiting for something like this,” Toshiya said. He shed his light jacket and shoes and moved into Kyo’s living room. “What am I really here for then? I thought… You’ve seemed like you’re in a better mood than usual.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I am,” Kyo said. “I have been.” He came and sat down on the living room floor, prompting Toshiya to do the same. “I’m just worried that—Well, you know, things have been really good, with Die.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can tell,” Toshiya said. “At his last hair appointment, he kept making you <em>laugh</em>. I was like, ‘what the hell is that sound?’”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, um. I’m afraid I’m coming to you now for some uncomfortable advice,” Kyo said awkwardly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya grimaced. “What kind of uncomfortable are we talking about here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die and I have been officially dating now for over a month, and I don’t—Like you said, he’s probably expecting us to have more of a sexual component to our relationship—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, right, bustin’ out the sex talk,” Toshiya said. “I’m gonna need a drink if we get into this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, I… I don’t think I have any alcohol in the apartment…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No worries, I brought my own,” Toshiya said, and rifled through his bag until he came out with a beer. He opened it and took a long drink before refocusing his attention on Kyo. “Right. So you two still haven’t slept together and he’s starting to get antsy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not exactly. More I’m <em>worried</em> that he’ll feel—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “First of all, I want to say I’m flattered that you came to me with this problem,” Toshiya said, “though I suspect you just don’t have a lot of other options.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You haven’t even let me explain the issue.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m pretty sure I get the gist,” Toshiya said. “Your relationship with Die is moving along, but you’re concerned you might not be moving fast enough for Die, and he’s gonna start looking for his satisfaction elsewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I wasn’t going to go as far as to say that,” Kyo said uneasily. “I just don’t want him to think I’m stringing him along. He was pretty clear even before we were dating, about the importance he puts on physical intimacy…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think you probably know what I’m gonna tell you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo sighed. He’d been thinking and stressing out about it enough to figure out what he had to do. “I need to sleep with him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right, you guys just—wait, <em>what</em>?” Toshiya looked at him, shocked. “I wasn’t going to say that! I mean, sure, if you <em>want</em> to, and you feel you’re at a point in the relationship where you’re comfortable with it, but—Why the hell would that be what I was going to suggest?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s just… I thought it was the obvious answer.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How—And you were asking my advice then because…?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I thought you might have some wisdom as to the best way to approach it,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, well, yeah, I do,” Toshiya said. “You need to <em>talk</em> about it, which, by the way, is what I was going to say in the first place. Have you guys discussed this problem at all?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not exactly a problem, <em>yet</em>.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So then Die had never actually expressed any dissatisfaction with the pace at which things are currently moving,” Toshiya said, “but you still decided to bypass asking <em>him</em> how he felt about it, and just skipped right to getting input from a third party.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, if it’s too personal and you don’t want to help you could just say so.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s not—Kyo, I’m always here for you and willing to help, but I admit, I’m really baffled by the way you’re trying to handle this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why is it so hard to understand? Of <em>course</em> it’s gonna be easier to come to you and plan what I <em>should</em> do than to open up that discussion with <em>Die</em>,” Kyo said helplessly. “You’re my <em>friend</em>, and he’s…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He’s your friend, too,” Toshiya said gently. “Isn’t that why you got together, why you like him? Because you can talk to him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not the same,” Kyo said, shaking his head. “If I bring up this topic to him, I draw attention to something we could carry on pretending is no problem at all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Pretending—</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Things are so good right now,” Kyo said. “I have such a good time with him, and he never puts any pressure on me for more, even though I can tell he wants it.” He leaned his elbows on the low table in front of him. “But if I start talking about what we’re not talking about, he’s going to think we’re not on the same page. He’s gonna think I don’t want him, and I don’t want to make him <em>doubt</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You could tell him that,” Toshiya said. “Tell him <em>all</em> of that, let him know that it has nothing to do with how you feel about him—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Like he’s gonna believe that? <em>I</em> wouldn’t. It just sounds like I’m trying to soften the blow of saying I don’t like him that much.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya ran a hand through his hair. “Then what’s your alternative course of action?” he asked, and took another drink.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Seduce him,” Kyo said flatly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya narrowly avoided a spit-take. “<em>What</em>!? That’s your plan that’s better than <em>talking</em>!?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I did want your opinion,” Kyo said. “You think it won’t work?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Work to do <em>what</em>? What’s the desired effect here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo gave him a look. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya covered his face with his hands. “Okay. But why?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I figure if I seduce him—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Please stop saying that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “—Go all old-school—maybe a lap-dance?—then he’ll have no doubts about me, about <em>us</em>. He’ll see that I want him just as much as he wants me, and he won’t have to feel bad about asking for more when he wants it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya dropped his hands to look at Kyo with a pained expression. “But <em>do</em> you want him as much as he wants you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I care about him,” Kyo said. “And I—I want to be able to fulfill his needs, and give him what he wants.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But that’s—<em>arghhh</em>,” Toshiya broke off. He rubbed at his forehead and took another swig of his beer. “It’s not going to make the problem go away. You’re just going to mislead him about your enthusiasm for something that you don’t honestly want in the same way he does. And I’m not saying you <em>have</em> to want it the way he does, and I’m not saying differences in sexual attraction and appetite are necessarily dealbreakers in a relationship. But I am saying that if you move forward this way, without communicating how you feel about these things, it’s just going to cause further hurt and confusion down the line.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It might not,” Kyo mumbled.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It might not,” Toshiya allowed. “But it might be months later, and Die wonders why <em>you</em> don’t seem satisfied with things, when you were so eager for it before, when you were the one to <em>initiate </em>a sexual relationship.” He looked at Kyo seriously. “I get that you don’t want to hurt him, but think how much more hurt he’d be to find out you were <em>pretending</em> all this time, <em>feigning</em> interest in him, when it wasn’t how you felt.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I <em>am</em> interested in him," Kyo said. "And I don’t—I’m not <em>sex-repulsed</em>, I just... don't care about that stuff."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"But if he finds that out, after the fact?” Toshiya shook his head. “He’s gonna feel way shittier than if you told him upfront. He might think he’s been taking advantage of you, or feel like his trust has been broken.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo let out a frustrated noise, dropped his head onto the table. What Toshiya was saying made sense, and Kyo didn’t really doubt that he was right, much as he didn’t want him to be. “How’d you get all wise about this shit?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya chuckled. “Honestly? I learned most of it from you."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For a while, neither of them spoke. Kyo sank down into his anxious thoughts, wondering what other solution there was for him. If he did nothing, surely Die would still start to worry about some one-sidedness to their relationship, and Kyo didn’t even want a concern like that to cross his mind.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do you recommend, then?” he asked Toshiya.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I assume you mean besides the <em>talking</em> that I think you two definitely need to do.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Besides that,” Kyo said. “Talking… I’m just not ready for it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya nodded, and fidgeted with his beer as he considered. "Don't rush things. Nothing has happened so far, so maybe that means you’re both comfortable with where you are. If you won’t talk to him, let things happen at their own pace, without pushing. And be willing to listen and be honest if <em>Die</em> ends up wanting to discuss where you guys are going.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was solid and reasonable advice. Almost too obvious. Kyo agreed that it was probably the smartest way to handle the situation.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Now,” Toshiya said, stretching, “can we please play some video games, before I get drunk and lose some of my coordination?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How many beers do you have in there?" Kyo asked, eyeing his bag suspiciously.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "Oh, enough," Toshiya assured him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They played, and Kyo was still so distracted he hardly even noticed how badly Toshiya was kicking his ass. The conversation hadn’t quite gone as he’d hoped.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had really been counting on this uncomfortable talk with Toshiya to put his mind at ease. He’d figured he would walk away from it with a concrete plan of action for moving things forward with Die, and he would no longer be plagued with concerns about hurting Die or bring some insecurity upon him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Instead all he had was a wishy-washy wait-and-see strategy, and a bunch of <em>new</em> ways to worry about hurting Die or damaging his trust. Why hadn't Toshiya given him any of the advice he’d expected?</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As good as Toshiya’s advice was, Kyo found it surprisingly difficult to follow. With every date he and Die went on, he was hyper-aware of everything, every casual touch, every one of Die’s reactions. Nothing was happening. Toshiya had advocated for some natural progression, but Kyo was growing truly concerned that without something proactive on his part, they would never get anywhere, and Die would blame him for it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And it wasn’t exactly that Kyo didn’t want Die, anyway. He didn’t exactly fantasize about receiving some sexual gratification from him, but he was… curious. As they sat close together, snuggled up on Die’s couch for a movie night, Kyo found himself staring, not for the first time, at Die, instead of the TV.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He always showed such control and restraint when he was around Kyo. Despite what Die had said about his tendency to seek physical pleasure with any and everyone, he’d always been so respectful of Kyo’s unspoken boundaries, so careful in his touches and movements.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wondered what it would take to really put a crack in that composure, to make Die come apart.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His head tilted to one side as he thought about it, about pushing things little by little, watching Die crumble into desperation. Would he prostrate himself, subject himself to Kyo’s whims, or would he clutch at him needfully, become a wild animal with no hope of sense or reason?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nudged Kyo's knee lightly. "You still watchin' the movie?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mmhmm. Just got distracted thinking for a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What about?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo chewed his lip. This wasn’t how he wanted to broach the subject. He shrugged. “Just various things.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm.” Die didn’t look totally satisfied with that answer, but he returned his attention to the movie, and Kyo tried to do the same.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Honestly, he did try, but only a few minutes later, he was thinking again about maneuvers he could pull, to gauge Die’s interest in him, to test the limits of his control.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He shifted sideways on the couch, stretching his legs out over Die’s lap, making sure to drag his foot along the inside of Die’s thigh before he settled.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die gave him a bemused look, and Kyo blinked back at him innocently.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Just trying to get comfortable,” he said, and pulled a classic move, stretching exaggeratedly, arching so that his shirt rode up several centimeters.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s eyes were immediately drawn to the exposed skin. “Right,” he said, “well, let me know if you need me to move or something.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Once more he went back to watching the movie, and Kyo went back to watching Die, fascinated like he was a bit of wildlife to be studied. He took in the subtle shift of Die’s hips as he struggled not to move, the tension in Die's jaw as his staring at the screen required a little more concentration than before.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Again, Kyo moved his legs on Die's lap, just to mess with him, and this time Die’s hand shot out to grab hold of Kyo’s ankle. He didn’t grip it hard, didn’t try to control his movement, but Kyo felt some small satisfaction in having gotten him to act.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wanted to push their game further.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He had to think about what other tricks he remembered from his old life that wouldn’t make it <em>too</em> obvious what he was doing. He waited till there was a sort of lull in the action of the movie, then sighed loudly and arched again, rolling his hips up off the couch this time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What are you doing?” Die asked, his voice sort of hoarse.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo held up his phone. “Gettin’ my phone out of my pocket. I think someone just texted me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s hand was just barely tighter where he was still holding Kyo’s ankle, and there was no disguising the way his gaze was wandering down Kyo’s body.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo watched him out of the corner of his eye, his main attention still on his phone. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shook his head. “Nothing. I just—nah, it’s nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Somewhere around there, Kyo was forced to remember Toshiya’s wisdom. It wouldn’t solve the problem to actively seduce Die, and in fact would probably only create bigger problems later.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But, somehow, remembering it only made Kyo ignore it more. Some senseless part of him wanted to push Die all the way to the breaking point, to see what would happen if he really let loose.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The low-grade teasing wasn’t going to do the trick. Kyo needed to break out the big guns and go all in.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He waited again until there was a loud and busy scene on the screen to cover his suspicious movement, as he pushed himself to sit upright, beside Die once more. He encouraged Die to wrap his arm comfortably around his shoulders, and once they were cuddling acceptably, Kyo rested his hand on Die’s thigh, way too high to be innocent.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Impressively, Die still pretended not to notice. He swallowed, and Kyo noticed the hitch in his breathing, but he didn’t react other than that, even to glance down at Kyo’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, Kyo let his hand drift up Die’s thigh more, and more, tracing the inseam of Die’s jeans, until he could brush against the bulge in his pants with his pinky finger.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At that point, Die inhaled sharply, and his hand flexed on Kyo’s shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You okay?" Kyo asked softly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die let out a tremulous laugh. “I—Hah, yeah, I’m fine—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, good.” And Kyo’s hand slid over to rest directly over Die’s growing arousal.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die actually yelped. “I—<em>Kyo</em>, wh-what are you <em>doing</em>?” He sounded so confused and helpless that Kyo suddenly felt sort of bad for how relentlessly he’d been messing with him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He slowly pulled his hand back. “You don’t want me to touch you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I didn’t say that," Die said. He caught Kyo’s hand, though he didn’t replace it between his legs. “I’m just wondering what’s going on.” He was looking at Kyo with an expression that Kyo didn’t necessarily like; searching and with that trace of doubt Kyo had so hoped to avoid.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Recklessly, Kyo threw himself onto Die’s lap, straddling him before Die could figure out what was happening. He kissed him, licked into his mouth like he could hide there. It was safe like this, when Kyo was back in control of the situation, when he could pin Die’s wrists on either side of his head, drive the intensity of their kiss.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> This was just like any other task set before him. He could take care of things, meet his goal, earn that sense of accomplishment. He rolled his hips, his lap dance experience kicking in, and Die moaned into his open mouth.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It came screeching once more to a halt when somehow Die broke free, pinned Kyo’s wrists down at his sides again, and pulled back to make proper eye contact.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Kyo</em>,” he said, in a tone that Kyo couldn’t very well ignore in favor of kissing him again. He was breathing hard and his pupils were blown, swallowing up the warm brown of his eyes, and he wasn’t going to let Kyo look away. “What—Do you want to do this? Not to be a mood killer, but I’m just trying not to get my signals crossed, and you’ve never—You want to have sex, now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was too late. Just by taking as long as he had, Kyo had already given Die cause to doubt his interest in him, enough that displaying it made him suspicious. He’d already missed his chance to not fuck things up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> On top of that, Die was making them <em>talk</em> about it, like it wasn’t obvious that Kyo had been taking great pains to skip that whole bit. He couldn’t stand to talk about what he “<em>wanted</em>” when he knew that never really mattered much.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He tried to turn it around as smoothly as he knew how. "If <em>you</em> want to."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s brow wrinkled; that must have been the wrong thing to say.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo made a second attempt. “I want to make you feel good.” He punctuated this with another pointed roll of his hips, which had Die’s eyelids fluttering shut.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What—What did you have in mind?" Die asked, the authority all crushed out of his voice.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo hadn't thought quite that far ahead. He'd wanted to see Die’s composure break, and he'd gotten that, but all at once the time had come for Kyo to actually satisfy him, and he was wondering why he'd been so keen on getting himself into such a mess.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He leaned in to kiss Die again, half to stall for time. He didn’t mind kissing Die anyway. Not that he <em>minded</em> doing anything with Die, but kissing was straightforward and there was no expectation for some grand reciprocation. He wasn’t likely to let Die down just by kissing him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The grip on his wrist relaxed as Die moved to cup Kyo’s jaw, holding him sweetly, carefully.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn't quite a familiar touch. Or, maybe it was overly familiar, while still being foreign. Kyo felt safe and treasured when Die touched him like that, and it made him forget what he meant to be thinking about. No, it was a distraction. He didn’t like to dwell on how that gentle touch made him feel.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With new determination, Kyo slid down from Die's lap to kneel on the floor between his legs. It was oddly comforting to be back in such well-trodden territory. Here, too, the expectations were easy, and Kyo could maintain control of the scene without trouble.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die watched him like a man hypnotized, too aroused to make any attempts to either question or direct.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t need that anyway. He was no stranger to getting on his knees for someone. He'd often found it was the simplest, quickest way to get someone off without them demanding anything further, to bring someone pleasure and not leave them feeling neglected.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And sure, it had been a few years, but he didn’t doubt his own ability to give a decent blowjob.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was all about strategy. He ran his hands up and down Die’s thighs and appreciated how he tensed and relaxed alternately. By just sitting there with his hands clenched into fists at his sides, Die was <em>trusting</em> Kyo, and displaying that trust. Kyo counted that as a point earned.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he got around to undoing Die’s belt and working his jeans down his hips and thighs, there was already pre-cum beading at the tip of Die’s erect cock. That was another point.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo urged Die to scoot forward on the couch, made sure to hold eye contact as he parted his lips and welcomed the head of Die's cock into his mouth. As if on cue, Die groaned, and Kyo barely managed not to smirk, even with his mouth full.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He went on racking up points as he suckled at the cockhead, bobbed over Die’s length, caressed Die’s sac with one hand. Every moan and whimper that fell from Die’s mouth was the tangible evidence of Kyo’s achievement.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To his surprise, Kyo found himself recovering memories of the things he used to like about sex. For him, it had never been about reaching orgasm, about physical pleasure, but it was, in a way, <em>satisfying </em>every time he felt Die’s thighs shake. There was something so rewarding about being able to successfully manipulate his lover until he was nothing more than a weak, needy puddle.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For the most part, Die wasn’t super coherent. He was vocal, made plenty of soft musical sounds in which Kyo took great pride, but it seemed that a mouth on his dick drastically impeded his linguistic capabilities, and aside from his own name, Kyo couldn’t make out much that sounded like words.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Thus the nearness of his end, accompanied by some half-strangled warning, caught Kyo’s attention easily, and he was perfectly prepared for the cum that shot down his throat a moment later.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That wasn't one of the things he’d particularly enjoyed about sex, but if he was honest, he didn’t hate it. It was kind of like the final, hard-earned passing grade on his science fair project. Proof of his accomplishments. He swallowed it with pride.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was still making those soft desperate noises when he was finished, and his hands clutched at Kyo until he obligingly climbed back into his lap, smiling at him fondly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re… Fuck, you’re really good at that,” Die said breathlessly. He pushed Kyo’s hair back from his face, traced a thumb over his lower lip. “You’re… Yeah. Wow.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo snorted. The praise was nice, he supposed, even if it lacked eloquence. The way Die was touching him was once again intimate and tender, and it wasn’t bad. Oftentimes, after bringing his partner off, Kyo had seen that as the time to flee. His work was completed and there was nothing else to stay there for. With Die, he didn’t feel the need to escape. Instead he just wanted to snuggle closer, let Die mouth absently at his neck and collarbone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then Die said, “Let me take care of you, too,” and Kyo suddenly remembered why he’d gotten so used to running.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s hand was already there, fingers tugging at the waistband of Kyo’s pants, and it had to be a careful thing for Kyo to guide that hand away without making the action rushed and frantic.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t worry about me,” he said, and kissed Die again in hopes that it would distract him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> No such luck; as soon as the kiss broke, Die looked at him worriedly. “Are you sure? I can return the favor, or just touch you, if you’d rather…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head, but did his utmost to keep a convincing smile on his face. “I’m okay. I just wanted to do something for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It didn’t completely erase the worry written in Die’s expression, but he backed off, and after some awkward rearranging, they rewound the movie to where they’d stopped paying attention and watched it properly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The rest of the night was comfortable; Die held Kyo even closer than before, and there was no unpleasant recap conversation, but Kyo’s anxiety hadn’t gone away.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He felt both better and worse after taking action. On the one hand, he did receive some satisfaction from knowing he’d been able to please Die. It had felt good to make Die feel good, given Kyo that moment of <em>Isn't this what sex is all about? Maybe my understanding of intimacy isn’t as skewed as I thought! Maybe this is how everyone feels!</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But when Die had tried to return the favor, Kyo couldn’t deny how uncomfortable he’d felt. It hurt, because it wasn’t <em>Die</em> that made him uncomfortable, but he couldn’t stand the thought of putting them both through it, of seeing Die’s disappointment and loss of confidence when he couldn’t bring Kyo the same pleasure Kyo brought him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And now that he’d opened that door, Kyo knew things would never be the same. They’d only continue this way; Die would expect Kyo to provide on the regular, he would take on responsibility for Kyo’s satisfaction, and even if Kyo had sufficiently gotten him to drop it this time, that wasn’t going to work forever. He would keep trying to get Kyo off, and Kyo’s instigation of things had only sealed his own fate.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d never thought he’d say it, but Kyo had to admit, he should have listened to Toshiya.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a heads up, there's another sex scene towards the end of this chapter, slightly different kind of uncomfortable from the last one maybe? well, you'll see.<br/>Anyway sorry!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The car stereo was blasting, the windows were down, and Die could have sworn that the sunshine lighting the sky was a mere reflection of what shone right out of his own heart.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d never had a relationship he could compare to what he had with Kyo, someone in whom he could confide, someone he felt truly <em>close</em> to, someone who could completely light him on fire with nothing more than a look. Outside of that last thing, the closest he’d ever come was Shinya, but thankfully, he and Shinya had never crossed that line in their friendship.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With Kyo, though, he couldn't be happier that he had crossed it. He knew it couldn't always be as idyllic as it seemed at the moment, but it was rare for Die to have a relationship last even this long, and he still felt they were only beginning.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The only thing he might have said was lacking—and even <em>that</em> he wouldn't have called an actual complaint—was a certain degree of physical intimacy, but since last week, even that rivaled anything he’d had in any previous relationship.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To Die’s surprise, it had been <em>Kyo</em> that actually took them the next step in that area. Die had been so hesitant; with his track record, and with Kyo’s reluctance to do so much as hug when he’d first met him, he’d worried that Kyo might want to take things slower, that Die’s usual ways would be putting too much pressure on Kyo. But in the end, it looked like Kyo had been holding back just as Die had.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Prior to that, Die had had a dream or two about Kyo’s mouth, but they were nothing in comparison to the real deal. He’d felt <em>transported</em> by the way Kyo took care of him, and he couldn’t wait to bring Kyo to that same level of pleasure in return.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He pulled up at the location for the day’s photoshoot, unable to keep the smile off his face. He felt so well-loved, and he’d never expected any of it to be as good as it was. He wanted to spread his joy to everyone he met.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t like anyone he encountered could really <em>miss</em> his infectious good mood. Sure, maybe he’d always kind of had a reputation as a happy, friendly person, but as he greeted the staff and crew, Die was aware of the looks he was receiving, and for once he didn’t give a single flying fuck.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> This was his first shoot with Kaoru since the one they’d done with Kyo, and Die felt like he was meeting up with an old friend when he found him there with a can of coffee in one hand, a clipboard in the other.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kaoru-san! It’s been so long, I’m so glad to see you” He opted not to try for a hug, since Kaoru’s hands were full, but he did reach out to clasp Kaoru’s shoulder firmly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru responded with a curious sort of look. “Good to see you, too.” He gestured with his coffee towards him. “What’s all this about?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die looked down at himself. “Oh, well, I haven’t been to wardrobe yet…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I mean, you’re in unusually high spirits. Not that I don’t like to see you happy, but uh. What’s up? Something happened?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die couldn’t really be expected to contain himself, could he? “Actually, yeah, kind of. Or—I’m just in a relationship, and it’s just going so well… I’m not used to it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “New relationship, huh?” Kaoru took a sip of his coffee. “How long?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die had to think about it. It felt like Kyo had always been a part of his life, and yet the joy of being with him was still so fresh and unreal. “I guess about two months.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru’s eyebrows rose. “Two months, and you’re still all sunshine? Who is this person? Someone we work with?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not usually, but you’ve met him, it’s Kyo,” Die admitted, a little bashfully. A good percentage of the fashion industry was queer, so he knew objectively he oughtn’t be so nervous about bringing it up, but some nagging little voice inside him still always told him he should hide his sexuality. It was always easier when he could tell someone he was dating a woman, something so normal no one ever thought twice about it. But even with Kaoru, no matter how cool he seemed in other contexts, there was no way to be sure he wouldn’t react badly to hearing that Die had a boyfriend.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru just kept his eyebrows raised. “<em>Kyo</em>. Really. Huh. I admit, I did not see that coming. I seem to recall... But things are going well?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die didn't want to start gushing and make it weird, so he just nodded eagerly. “He’s—so much more than I expected."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru nodded, too. "It's funny, I was going to ask you about him, see if you knew how he's doing—I guess you must know a <em>lot</em> about how he's doing."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He's great! The salon’s been busy, I think."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "Did you get a feeling for how he felt about working that photoshoot with us before?" Kaoru asked, half-crossing his arms. "Was that something he'd be interested in doing again?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "You want to work with him on another shoot?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru paused thoughtfully. "I'm supposed to be working on a commercial, actually, in acouple months, and I have some say in who we get for the team. Ideally, I’d like you to model for me again. Assuming your agent okays it, and you’re not sick of me after this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course I won’t be!” Die said. “I’m honored that you would want me for a commercial. And my manager and agent have seen how well we’ve worked together in the past, so I’m sure there won’t be any trouble there.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How do you feel about working with water?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Um. Fine, I guess?” Die said, somewhat puzzled by the question. “But wait, so you’re saying you’d like Kyo to work on this commercial, too?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you think he’d be up for it? His work was more than satisfactory last time, but it wasn’t easy for me to get a good impression of his <em>feeling</em> about it,” Kaoru said. “And of course, a commercial is a little different from a regular photoshoot.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can definitely bring it up to him, have him contact you,” Die said. He knew better than to speak for Kyo, even if he was pretty sure he knew how he’d answer, but he could certainly pass information along.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t think it would create some problem, now that you two are involved?” Kaoru asked, frowning.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I don’t think so,” Die said. “I’m sure it wouldn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It would be great if you could have him get in touch with me, then. In our experience together, I saw Kyo as professional and efficient. I’m really pleased with how our photos from that last shoot came out, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. After all, he’d been impressed by Kyo’s professionalism at that time, too.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Meanwhile, we’ve got a new guy doing hair and makeup for today’s shoot,” Kaoru said with a slight grimace. “We’ll see how that goes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sure it will be fine,” Die said. “He’ll learn a lot doing a shoot with you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I need to absorb some of your optimism,” Kaoru said. He sniffed, looked at his clipboard. “All right, they’ll be wanting to start working on you, so I’ll see you back on set. And congratulations, by the way, you and Kyo-kun.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die beamed. It felt good to tell people, to have his relationship recognized and celebrated. He briefly wondered how much trouble he’d be in if he went really public with it and made a post on social media.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The photoshoot itself wasn't bad—nowhere near the disaster that Die’s first experience working with Kaoru had been. The makeup artist, an androgynous guy with dyed blonde hair, was indeed new, but that just meant he was more cheerful and excited than average, and was all too happy to hear Die ramble (discreetly) on about his relationship.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How did you guys meet? It sounds like you’re so good together!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Actually, if you can believe it, we met when I went to him for a hair appointment,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The young makeup artist’s jaw dropped. “Stop, you didn’t!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mmhmm, he works in a hair salon."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, there's hope for me to find romance yet!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die watched him in the mirror, wondering if there was someone with whom he could set him up. He seemed like a sweet guy, and Die’s own romantic triumphs had him wanting to bring that same joy to others. He made sure to get his contact info, just in case he could find him a date.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The energy onset was high and positive. It was a more commercial concept than they’d done with Kyo, and not terribly complicated. The woman placed to pose alongside Die was an actress, though Die couldn’t remember exactly which drama he'd seen her on.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru worked as smoothly as ever, gliding around, directing the crew, models, and technicians without ever having to raise his voice. He seemed tired by the end of it, but not unhappy, and Die took pride in knowing he hadn’t done anything to fuck it all up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was applause, and congratulations were passed around as they completed the day’s work, and Die bade Kaoru farewell with promises to speak to Kyo and be in touch soon. The sun was already on its way down by the time Die came out to his car, but despite the long hours he’d worked, he felt as light as when he’d arrived that morning. He had a date planned with Kyo later, and that simple knowledge was enough to give him energy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He got a message from Kyo, confirming that he was supposed to come over to Die’s place, and then made quick work of getting everything ready. He showered and dressed in clean clothes, vacuumed, and burned some incense, just to create a softer atmosphere. It was already getting late, so it wasn’t meant to be a dinner date, but he made sure to have snacks available in case Kyo was hungry while they hung out and watched the latest episode of the TV show they’d started together.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was excited for him to show up, perhaps <em>overly</em> so. It hadn’t been long at all since he’d seen him, but just spending time with Kyo made him happy, and he was eager to talk to him about Kaoru’s commercial. It would be so <em>fun</em> to work on something like that together, and even if Die knew he had to let Kyo decide for himself if he was interested, he really <em>hoped</em> he’d say yes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo arrived more or less as scheduled, but Die had gotten so impatient for his arrival that he didn’t even drag him inside before he started kissing him, desperate to pull him closer, keep him fully within his orbit.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was kind of nice to be able to kiss him right there on the front step, the openness of it, like his own very quiet way of shouting from the rooftops how much he loved Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In time, it was Kyo who maneuvered them inside, somehow closing the door behind them without separating his lips from Die’s, which Die rather appreciated.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As they finally did break apart, Kyo cocked his head and looked at him. “Trying to give your neighbors a free show?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I just didn’t want to wait to be kissing you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, there’s plenty of time and space for you to kiss me now that I’m inside,” Kyo said. “There’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die loved him. He wanted to tell him right then, how incredibly much he meant to him, how he made his life better and brighter, how this was the <em>realest</em> relationship he’d ever had—but it felt like too much, too soon.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And maybe it wasn’t. They’d been dating two months, been friends before that; maybe it wasn’t too early to let Kyo know he cared, but it was still so new, so unfamiliar to Die that he was loath to try anything that might make some significant difference to their current dynamic.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So in lieu of a confession of love made with words, Die shoved Kyo back, pinning him against the wall and kissing him again, intent on <em>showing</em> the love he was too afraid to speak aloud.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo made no protest, only a small sound of surprise, then his mouth opened for Die to properly explore, and his hands clutched at the front of Die’s shirt.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was so much Die wanted to show him, to communicate in this manner that was so much easier than <em>talking</em>. He wanted to show Kyo that he was <em>important</em>, that Die could put him <em>first</em>; he wanted to show that he was capable of serving Kyo, listening, and taking care of him; he wanted to show him that he could be the best lover he’d ever had, that he would never want another after he saw what Die could provide.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Thus far, in their limited intimacy, Die had always been on the receiving end of things, and that didn’t sit well with him. He loved what Kyo had done for him, but he hated the idea that Kyo might come to think of him as a selfish lover, when he was anything but.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s mouth moved along the edge of Kyo’s jaw, kisses that were too messy, too sharp. “Missed you,” he mumbled into the skin just below Kyo’s ear. “Couldn’t wait to feel you like this.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo let out a sweet, rasping laugh. “Just like this, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Up against me,” Die elaborated, nudging Kyo’s thighs apart with his knee. “Want to see you fall apart.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He could feel the bob of Kyo’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You trust me, right?” Die said, pushing his thigh up between Kyo’s legs. “Tell me what you want.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I trust you,” Kyo said. His fingers were digging into Die’s biceps. “I, ah—but I just want—whatever you want. For you to feel good.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die paused, confused, pulled back a little bit. It wasn’t the first time that Kyo had said something like that, tried to redirect him when he offered to do something for him. Was he reading too much into that, or was Kyo <em>rejecting</em> him?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Making you feel good makes me feel good,” Die countered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s expression was hard to read then, seeming almost nervous in a way that wasn’t quite familiar, and Die wondered if he’d said something wrong. Before he could back off entirely, Kyo’s hand slid into his hair.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then let’s feel good together,” he said, and rolled his hips, grinding down against Die’s thigh.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Yes</em>,” Die breathed. He dove back in to bite at Kyo’s neck, loving each gasp and hiss he got as he worked. He kept moving against Kyo, his own erection rubbing against Kyo’s hip.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was easy with Kyo, easy to feel good, to be so turned-on that there was nothing else in the world but the two of them. Die was so hard, and just feeling Kyo, warm, touching him, brought him so much higher. He wanted to live in this moment, Kyo’s scent, his sounds, the way he moved with him like sin in human form.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The proper thing to do would have been to take Kyo to bed, to lay him down and really look after him, but maybe they were both too keyed-up to have enough patience for that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <em>Let’s feel good together</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Yes, that was it. After years of flings and one-night-stands, meaningless hook-ups where Die was just using someone, or someone was using him, what he had with Kyo wasn’t like that at all. For once, it was the two of them, <em>feeling good</em> together, sharing a beautiful experience of pleasure and intimacy.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “God, Kyo, you—you make me feel so good,” he panted. “I don’t think I’m gonna—take much longer.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo moaned quietly, and just that was almost enough to tip Die over the edge.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, baby, that’s it,” he said. “Are you close?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In response, Kyo just gasped his name, and Die lost whatever restraint he'd been clinging to. He couldn't even be ashamed of how he held onto Kyo, rutted against him, chasing his pleasure until he came in his pants. Maybe it was bad manners to lose control like a horny animal right there in the hallway, but in his post-orgasm state of mind, he couldn’t be so concerned with it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Luckily, they were against the wall, and Die didn’t need to support his full weight immediately. He braced a hand against the wall as his mouth wandered lazily along Kyo’s neck.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm, god, I needed that,” he said. Taking a deep breath, he pulled back, took in Kyo’s flushed face, his mussed-up hair. “What about you?” he asked, letting his gaze flick down below Kyo’s belt.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo chuckled sort of awkwardly. “Yeah, <em>I</em> am… going to go clean up.” He squirmed away from the wall, past Die, and went down the hall to the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die watched him go with his lip caught between his teeth. How had he gotten so lucky?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> While Kyo was in the bathroom, Die took the opportunity to clean himself up as well, went to change into some clean boxers and a pair of lounge pants. Kyo joined him in the bedroom shortly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Everything okay? Need to borrow some clothes?” Die asked with a smirk.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “I think I’ll be okay.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die crossed to him, looped his arms around his hips. “I’m sorry about that. Next time I’ll make sure we get naked first.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo laughed, and leaned up to kiss him. “Sounds like a plan.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I was so excited to see you all day.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kinda got that impression, from how you jumped me the second I walked in the door,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t mean just like that,” Die said, shaking his head. “I had a shoot today, with Kaoru.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, no wonder you missed me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Stop that,” Die said with a light shove. “What, you don’t like Kaoru?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nah, I do,” Kyo said. “He was actually really cool to work with, how’s he doing?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He’s great, and I’m glad you said that, ‘cause he told me he’d really like to work with you again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s face turned wary.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I wasn’t about to make any decisions for you, so I said I’d pass the info along, and you can get back to him,” Die explained hurriedly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “For another photoshoot?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “For a commercial, actually,” Die said. “He brought it up to me because he wants me to model for it, too.” He didn’t add that he’d been telling everyone at the photoshoot about his relationship with Kyo, because even if he’d been going on about it in a positive manner, he wasn’t sure how Kyo would react to having his personal business spread all over the fashion industry. Maybe he should have discussed that with him beforehand…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That actually sounds like a pretty big deal,” Kyo said, his eyebrows rising. “What the hell, and you had to hump me against the wall before you could tell me about this?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s head dipped in embarrassment. “I was just happy to see you…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo gave him a look, clearly unimpressed, but at least not seriously angry. They moved back out to the living room couch to talk in more depth about Kaoru and the potential commercial shoot, and to watch their show, and Kyo stayed the night, tucked comfortably against Die’s chest.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It all felt right in a way that Die had never known before, but he could sure as hell get used to.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some complicated feelings in this chapter! I guess I'm not sure what else to say about it. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Die’s body was more powerful than Kyo had really expected as he moved rapidly over him, fucking Kyo like he was some kind of machine. He kept Kyo pinned in the position he wanted him in, and maintained an impressive amount of grace and poise, even as he rather obviously approached his peak.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo did what he could to help, arching off the bed, running his hands across Die’s shoulders and chest, when suddenly, Die gasped, and looked away, his brow furrowed like he was in pain.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What’s wrong?” Kyo whispered, tipping Die’s chin back towards him. “You okay?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sighed, shook his head. “Yeah, I’m… Just wanted to last longer, that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t manage to stop his face from twisting in confusion. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die gave him a look.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I mean,” Kyo backpedaled awkwardly, “that’s—You know, you don’t have to worry about me. You never need to worry about me, honestly. If I need something more from you, I’ll just let you know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was still frowning as he carefully pulled out and moved to clean up, but at least he didn’t press Kyo for some further explanation, because he didn’t really have one.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You know,” Toshiya said, coming to lean against the empty chair at Kyo’s station, “sometimes it really seems like you must <em>enjoy</em> being miserable. Like that’s just how you want to be or something.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head, but didn’t look up from where he was organizing his freshly-cleaned hairclips. “I don’t know, maybe you’re right.” Who was he to argue, when he so obviously brought his unhappiness upon himself?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hm. That’s not the argument I usually get from you,” Toshiya said. "What's wrong this time?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"Nothing," Kyo said. It wasn't the truth, but it seemed easier than getting into it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"You don't usually lie about your problems either," Toshiya pointed out. </span>
  <span class="s1">“Come on. Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo glanced around the salon, where a couple other stylists were still working. “I’m not trying to get you in trouble for chatting on the job,” he said. “The owners are still on your ass, right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya got a strange look on his face at that, and swallowed. “Actually, um. There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, and now is as good a time as any, um.” He held out his hands. “The owners aren’t on my ass anymore, because I’m the new owner. Ta-da.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo just blinked at him. “Wait, what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… I bought the salon?” Toshiya said nervously. “So I guess that means I’m kind of your boss now!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It still wasn’t really registering for Kyo. “Since when? How…? What the fuck, have I been in a coma or something, why is this the first I’m hearing of it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s been in the works for a while now,” Toshiya admitted. “I came into some money when my aunt passed away, and the owners were looking to sell, and I—well, it was kind of a spite-fueled move, to be honest.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your aunt passed away? Are—I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. Were you close?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We were,” Toshiya said, nodding. “And it sucks. But I didn’t tell you, so you don’t have to be sorry.” He rubbed at the back of his head. “I wasn’t ready to talk about it, and I didn’t want it to seem like I was, I dunno, trying to get sympathy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’d never—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know, I know,” Toshiya said. “I’m healing though, and the money she left me as her favorite nephew meant I was able to buy this place. The deal finally went through, I think I’m <em>officially</em> the new owner starting Monday.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t understand how he could have been so out of the loop. He’d really thought he was doing <em>better</em> at not being a shitty friend, but somehow he’d missed everything going on in Toshiya’s life.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you okay?” Toshiya asked.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Just wondering how I can be so fucking ignorant,” Kyo said. “Don’t suppose you also got married and I missed the wedding?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nah, it’s not till next week.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s head snapped up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Kidding</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not that funny.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry,” Toshiya said. “I should have told you sooner, I just… You’ve had a lot of your own shit going on, and I didn’t want to feed the rumor mill here at the salon…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “‘Cause I’m known for being a gossip?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Come on, don’t make it personal,” Toshiya said, frowning. “I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it before everything was official. But, you’re my friend, and I didn’t mean to hide it from you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s… I’m not mad, I just. Feel stupid.” Kyo put his glasses back on, but still everything he looked at seemed sort of fuzzy and far away. “I don’t know. Congratulations. I’m happy for you, really.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thanks,” Toshiya said. “I might need your help making some changes around here, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey. Seriously though,” Toshiya said, his tone gentling some. “If you want to talk…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’ll take some getting used to, but I think I just need to process it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, not—You were already upset. What’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After Toshiya had just shared something so big, Kyo couldn't very well get away with bottling up his own feelings, just because it was easier. “I think,” he began hesitantly, “I think I fucked up.” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “With Die?” When Kyo nodded, Toshiya said, “Please tell me you didn’t try to—to ‘seduce’ him, like you were talking about.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t reply, and Toshiya sighed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why do you even ask my advice if you won’t listen to it?” Toshiya muttered. “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “It was—fine, mostly. That’s not… It wasn’t a problem until now it’s become… more of a thing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “More of a thing how?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Now it’s like every time I see him, we end up there.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The few other people in the salon were fully occupied with their own work, but Kyo noticed Toshiya’s gaze flitting around like he was worried they’d be overheard. He lowered his voice, “You know you don’t have to have sex with him if you don’t like it. You don’t have to force yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo made a noise of frustration, but he tried to keep his voice down too. “I’m not <em>forcing</em> anything. I don’t even hate sex! There are things about it that are—are fun, or interesting, and I like being able to give Die that, but I just don’t want him to waste the energy trying to pay me back for whatever I do!” He adjusted the little baskets on his cart, even though he’d long since finished organizing them, and they were already arranged neatly. “If he’s getting upset worrying about <em>my</em> pleasure to the point that he’s not enjoying himself anymore, then what the hell is the point?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What makes you think he’s not enjoying himself?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “His face,” Kyo said, remembering Die’s frown the last time they’d slept together. “He gets off, but he has some expectation that I will too, and I just. I don’t know how to communicate that that’s not important to me, that I don’t really <em>get</em> anything out of it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t want to look at Toshiya and see his <em>pity</em>, so he took out his phone, looked at the time, put it back in his pocket.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At length, Toshiya said, “I can tell you haven’t talked about it, but have you tried to say <em>anything</em> with regard to how you feel about this stuff?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I told him not to worry about me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kyo…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What else am I supposed to say?” Kyo said. “I don’t want to make everything worse, and I’ve been with enough jerks to know how that conversation will end, and <em>probably</em> end the <em>relationship</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die’s not those jerks,” Toshiya argued. “He’s not a jerk at all, from what I’ve been able to tell.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Even if he’s not,” Kyo said. “Sure, he might not just dump me on the spot, or try to tell me there’s something wrong with me, but… There have been plenty of well-meaning guys, too, who thought—I don’t know, it was their duty to <em>fix</em> me. Who thought I just hadn’t had <em>good</em> sex before, and doubled down on their efforts because I told them I didn’t want it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s not…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “They didn’t think they were being assholes,” Kyo said. “They thought everyone I’d been with before had failed me, that <em>they</em> would be the first one to ‘treat me right,’ and they didn’t fucking listen when I said—it wasn’t a priority for me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a pause, and then Toshiya was standing right there in front of him, refusing to not be looked at anymore.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s fucked up that that happened to you,” he said firmly. “But it’s not your fault for talking to your partner about what you want.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t feel like it matters that much whose fault it is.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then what do you want to do? You want to end things with Die, rather than <em>try</em> talking to him about it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t want to end things with him,” Kyo said quickly. “I—I don’t want that. I <em>like</em> being with him. Everything else about our relationship is good, and even this—it’s a small problem.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is it?” Toshiya said skeptically. “You’re moping, you said he’s not happy either. How long will you let it continue?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I should have controlled things better…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Like you should have made your boundaries clear from the beginning? I agree.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, like I shouldn’t have let things get so carried away,” Kyo said. “Sex—it’s such a small thing, but it’s such a big part of what we do together now. I didn’t mean for it to become… I’m just worried our whole relationship hinges on it too much.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya made a face. “Not to be unhelpful, but that’s a big part of things for a lot of people. It’s not unheard-of for someone to make serious relationship decisions based on the quality or frequency of the sex…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And if it’s something you’ve never brought up, there’s no way for Die to know that your feelings on the subject differ so much from his own. If that’s what he’s used to, that’s what he’ll continue to do, unless you say something.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Again, Kyo knew Toshiya was right, which was getting pretty annoying.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is this just more advice that you’re going to ignore?” Toshiya asked, kicking his shoe lightly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I won’t ignore it,” Kyo said. “I’ll think about it, and maybe someday eventually I’ll be brave enough to act.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya snorted. “As long as I’m not just shouting into the void.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was true, too. Much as Kyo didn’t <em>want</em> to, he knew he’d spend a frankly appalling amount of time thinking about it, because his brain had some increased capacity for thoughts that made him suffer.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He really didn’t like dwelling on this kind of thing; stuff that made him feel broken, or reminded him he was—not <em>normal</em>. Generally speaking, he really didn’t care if what was “normal” for most people wasn’t for him. It didn’t matter. Maybe other people thought it was normal, but he wasn’t them, and he wasn’t in the habit of comparing himself to other people. Usually.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was sort of different in the case of relationships. When his weirdness might (negatively) impact another person—furthermore, someone he <em>cared</em> about—then Kyo became a lot more concerned with how he measured up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t want Die to think there was something wrong, even if, in his heart, Kyo knew there <em>was</em> something wrong. If he could just make Die understand that he wasn’t seeking that kind of sexual release from him…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo also knew he wasn’t helping the situation any. He was sending mixed signals and being confusing, and he knew lesser men than Die would (and had done in the past) use that as an excuse to take advantage of Kyo, to push his boundaries and claim they knew what was best for him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He didn’t want Die to be like that. He didn’t <em>think</em> Die was that kind of person, but some part of him stayed afraid, couldn’t trust fully. Did he really know Die that well? How could he know what might change if Die felt like he was being lied to?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Somewhere amidst all the dangerous thinking that he shouldn’t have been doing, Kyo always came back to some half-hearted attempt to rationalize himself as<em> just like everyone else</em>. He wasn’t different at all, he tried to say. He just had specific tastes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After all, he still liked seeing Die lose himself in pleasure. It gave Kyo a sense of a job well done. That meant he enjoyed it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And he was capable of enjoying his own touch as well. Orgasms weren’t a foreign concept to him, they just weren’t <em>important</em>. Kyo got himself off from time to time, sure, to relieve stress or help him fall asleep. He could experience arousal, it was just… something so rare, for so few people, and most often what came from his own mind was more of a turn-on than a real person he was looking at, or someone else’s ministrations.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With Die, it was hard to define. Everything he felt for him seemed to be somewhere in-between. He liked being close to Die, liked kissing him, enjoyed the feeling of Die’s strong hands gliding over his skin, or firmly groping his ass, but he didn’t exactly feel <em>aroused</em> by those touches.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was more excited by <em>Die’s</em> obvious arousal, by the knowledge that he had done that to him. And he was more excited when he thought about it later, alone, with his own mental images and his own hand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Surely it didn’t help anything that Kyo had started thinking of Die when he took care of himself. Usually he didn't keep anything in mind during his self-sessions, but more recently, he'd been fantasizing, imagining things he was fairly certain he would <em>never</em> actually want to happen, and he would release his stress, touching himself to thoughts that were the very <em>source</em> of his stress originally. That had to be some kind of fucked up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He kept that hypocritical discrepancy to himself. No one else was entitled to the sort of thing he played in his head in his private moments, and maybe it didn’t make much difference anyway.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That self-doubt was hard to shake, though. He could recall an incident with a previous partner, who had pressured him for more than he wanted to give.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t get it,” he’d said. “You never jerk off?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had admitted that he did, but found that just made his ex angrier.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, so you’re just being withholding, is that it? If you can cum, why don’t you ever do it with me—you think I’m bad in bed?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo honestly <em>didn’t</em> think the guy was bad in bed. It didn’t have anything to do with him, but that wasn’t something his ex had been willing to believe.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d turned it back around, placed the blame on Kyo. “You know, <em>you’re</em> the one who’s never relaxed enough to get off. You’ve got some fucking trust issues, and you should probably be in therapy, so you’re not just leading guys on.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d stormed out, leaving Kyo half-dressed on the bed, and he’d never heard from him again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was something that had stuck with Kyo even years later. Part of him had wondered many times whether the guy was right. Was the whole problem just Kyo’s trust issues? But in that case, why couldn’t his partner just respect what Kyo was or wasn’t comfortable with?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had been to therapy. Even before that incident, Kyo had been going to a therapist off and on for the better part of his adult life. It had helped him come to terms with a lot of things about himself, but it hadn’t “fixed” him, because, as he’d been repeatedly told by therapists over the years, he wasn’t <em>broken</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> These days, Kyo found his trust issues mostly caused problems in that they prevented him from effectively communicating his needs to new people. He wanted to trust Die, but there were a hundred scenarios Kyo could imagine, where Die twisted the conversation around, made it Kyo’s fault, Kyo’s <em>affliction</em>, and he wasn’t ready to lose Die like that.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And it wasn’t something he could keep ignoring. He knew that, even <em>Toshiya</em> knew that, and really, Kyo <em>wanted</em> to trust Die…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He put the thoughts aside. Someday, hopefully he would be brave enough to act, to speak, and Die could learn how he felt, but it might take a little while before he could get to that point.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“So, like,” Die began, setting his empty glass on the coffee table, “what do you think it means, if, um, if someone has sex with you several times, several ways, and never, uh, gets off?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Despite the attempt to make the question casual, Shinya still gave him a thoroughly put-upon glare. “Having problems with Kyo?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, I don’t know,” Die said. “Do you think it’s a problem?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your partner is never reaching orgasm? Certainly doesn’t sound like a good thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, right, I phrased it badly,” Die said. “What I mean is, what if he never… <em>wants</em> to get off?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya’s glare turned more curious. “How do you mean?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s… Every time we do anything, I try to—give <em>back</em>, but he won’t let me. He always says he’s fine, and not to worry, and obviously I don't want to <em>push</em>…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But this is a recurring thing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah. <em>Every time</em>. I’m starting to think he’s never cum, in all the times we’ve—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, okay,” Shinya cut him off, waving a hand. “Hmm. Does he seem to enjoy what you’re doing?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die had to think about that. He’d always <em>assumed</em> Kyo was enjoying things, that he wanted it, especially since he’d been the one to come onto Die like that originally. He never made any complaints, never expressed dissatisfaction, but… If he was really enjoying himself, wouldn’t he want Die to touch him, too?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He seems,” Die said, and paused. “I don’t know. That’s where I’m having difficulty, I guess. I’d thought he was into it, and I was—<em>am</em>—definitely into it, but this is the only area where it seems like we’re not on the same page.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya sighed. “I think who you really need to ask is Kyo himself. Talking to me, we can try to interpret his actions, but even I can only speculate.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m afraid to bring it up and make him uncomfortable,” Die admitted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He’s your boyfriend,” Shinya said. “If you aren’t able to discuss these things that’s not really a good sign, and I think you know that without my telling you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “How do you even start a conversation like that, though?” Die said. He pushed himself away from the table in defeat. “Like, ‘hey babe, quick question, why don’t you like me to make you—’”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Now stop that,” Shinya scolded him. “It’s not a quick question, it’s something you’ve noticed, and you want to make sure you haven’t done anything to make him uncomfortable.” He frowned. “I hate to bring it up, but… you said he used to be a <em>dancer</em>, right? It’s possible that he’s had some… experiences that might make him less willing to share certain kinds of intimacy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s stomach turned. That was logical, but it wasn’t something he even wanted to think about. He rubbed his hands over his face, wishing he could scrub the very notion from his mind.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Again, this is all speculation,” Shinya reminded him gently. “But that’s why it’s important to hear from <em>him</em> what he is and isn’t okay with.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded, still feeling a bit nauseous, and started to clear the table, just so he wouldn’t be sitting still any longer.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya followed him into the kitchen with any dishes he hadn’t been able to carry, and set them beside the sink. He was quiet for a while, then said, “So, how long has this been going on anyway?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die glanced over at him and had to snicker. “Shin, are you really asking me for even more details about my sex life right now?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Forget it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, no, I’m kind of honored, seriously.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “More I’m just wondering how long it took you to catch on that there could be some problem.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die scowled down at the glass he was washing. “It’s not—I really was all about taking your advice, you know. I was waiting for things, taking it slow, whatever. <em>He</em> was the one who wanted <em>more</em>. I mean, no, I <em>wanted</em> more, but I was being perfectly patient.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm. I admit I wouldn’t have guessed that,” Shinya said. “But I don’t know anything about Kyo’s past relationships, so I couldn’t say what his tendencies are.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you think maybe his friend Toshiya would know more?” Die suggested. He hadn’t talked to him much outside of making hair appointments—they still had yet to get a karaoke night organized—but he knew Kyo was closer with him. Maybe he could offer some insight.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think going behind Kyo’s back to gather information, rather than speaking to him directly, will not be beneficial to your relationship,” Shinya said so pointedly that Die winced.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, yeah, that’s probably true.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “When do you see him next?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Toshiya?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Kyo</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, right, of course. Ah, Wednesday actually, for my hair. I’ll probably talk to him before then, though, over text, or—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I am going to advise you <em>not</em> to have this conversation with him over text.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. “Face-to-face is better, got it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Why are you so nervous about it?” Shinya asked, giving him a sideways look. “I’m sure what you have with Kyo is more than just sex.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "It is!” Die said. “It’s—” He broke off, sighed. He finished the last glass he was washing while he tried to collect his thoughts. Their relationship <em>was</em> more than sex; it was basically everything Die had ever dreamed of, and more. But… “I’m not used to… not feeling <em>wanted</em>,” Die said, drying his hands with the dish towel. “That’s usually the easiest part. But with Kyo, even if I feel like he likes me, and we have fun together, it’s <em>hard</em>, to feel like he doesn’t <em>want</em> me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a lengthy pause before Shinya teased, “Don’t you think you have enough people who want you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t care about them,” Die said, shaking his head. “I want Kyo.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And you have him,” Shinya said. “Try to remember that, to remember the other wonderful things about being with him. If everything has gotten bogged down with this sexual misunderstanding, take a step back and focus on doing some other things together for a spell.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die didn’t really think it would be as easy as that for this insecurity to drop from his mind, but he would try. He didn’t want this thing to be come any more of an issue than it already had.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Enough about me,” he said, throwing down his towel on the counter. “How are you? How’s the channel?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya looked startled by the subject change, but he regained his composure within a few seconds. “It’s going very well, actually, thank you for asking.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Still gaining subscribers?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm. And recently, I’ve had an influx of messages from modeling agencies.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “They want you to model?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, they want their models to appear on my channel, to promote them like I promoted you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die scoffed. “You’re gonna two-time me?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve tried to tell them they have it backwards,” Shinya said. “Really, it was your pre-established success that helped <em>me</em> to gain popularity. However, now it seems that I’m regarded as some authority on the modeling world by extension.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s pretty funny,” Die said. “I mean, in a good way. Or it’s not funny at all, it’s just cool, that people are respecting your knowledge and everything.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think it’s funny,” Shinya said. “They must have not watched the videos of me doing all those unrelated things, like failing to hit a golf ball.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die laughed. “Well, I won’t be offended if you have more models as guests, as long as it serves you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I appreciate that, and of course I would do whatever I feel like doing anyway, whether or not I had your blessing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course.”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s text conversations with Kyo leading up to Wednesday when he came into the salon were completely, undeniably—normal.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was no tension or awkwardness that Die could pick up whatsoever. They joked, they talked about work, they made tentative plans to see each other after Kyo’s shift on Wednesday evening, and it never seemed like anything was <em>off</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die had been with alot of people, and there had been plenty of times where it ended badly. He felt confident at this point in his life that he could recognize when a lover was upset with him, even when they were trying to keep it on the down-low. There was no sign of it from Kyo.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Confusing though that was, Die tried to take it as a good thing. He was pretty sure if something were seriously <em>wrong</em>, Kyo wouldn’t be the type to mask his true feelings to the extent that Die couldn’t tell at all.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That didn’t mean he wasn’t still tempted to ask Toshiya something about it when he walked into the salon for his appointment on Wednesday.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die-san, welcome!” Toshiya said cheerfully. He pushed his fashionable sunglasses up on top of his head. “How have you been?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Great,” Die said, flashing him his work smile. “And yourself? Keeping busy?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kind of an understatement, honestly,” Toshiya said. “You may have noticed a few changes around here…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die looked around, and he hadn’t thought about it, but now that Toshiya mentioned it, there <em>was</em> something different. It was subtle, and at first he didn’t notice, but—the <em>name</em> of the salon had changed, and the front of the check-in counter where the logo was displayed brightly right as the customers walked in, had been redone.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “'<em>100% Hair</em>?' When did this happen?” Die said. “Is it just the name, or are you guys under new management?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m actually a little surprised you haven’t heard,” Toshiya said. “You are speaking with the salon’s new owner.” He smiled, very pleased with himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you serious! I had no idea, congratulations!” Die said sincerely. “Wow, that’s quite a big change. How are you handling it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m taking it a little bit at a time,” Toshiya said. “I know I’ll get overwhelmed if I try to make all the changes I want to at once, but gradually I’ll get this place to where I want it to be. It helps that I already have a great team of hair stylists who are willing to stick with me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sure,” Die said. “You know, if you need any help promoting this place under the new name, I’m happy to say something on social media.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That would be awesome,” Toshiya said, “but eh, maybe not till I’ve got everything better organized. Not sure how many new clients we could really handle while I’m still balancing the other changes.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course, that makes sense,” Die said. “Whenever you’re ready, let me know.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you, I appreciate it.” Toshiya glanced over his shoulder and cleared his throat before turning back to Die. “How about your… modeling? Everything going well?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can’t complain. New ad campaign started running this week.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think I saw that, actually, the—what was it, face wash?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yep, that’s the one.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They had shifted into idle smalltalk, but Die found himself watching Toshiya closely as he spoke, hoping to pick up on some feeling that he had towards Die but left unsaid.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He knew that Toshiya was aware of his and Kyo’s relationship, that Kyo told him things. Was he imagining it or was Toshiya deliberately failing to meet his eyes? Did that mean something? What kind of insider knowledge did Toshiya have that colored his attitude towards Die this way?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Fortunately, before Die could voice any of his paranoid or irrational questions, Kyo came stalking up from his station in the back, hands in his pockets.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ready to do your hair, or you’re still chatting?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya rolled his eyes. “Don’t be like that, we’re just being friendly, because <em>you</em> were taking your sweet time coming up here. Sheesh, just because <em>you</em> can’t have a normal conversation with someone doesn’t mean the rest of us aren’t allowed to.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “I’m not being like anything, I just thought Die might want the hair maintenance he made an appointment for.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die just snorted. It was a pretty silly thing for them to be bickering about. “Nice to see you, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At that, Kyo gave him a small smile. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “All right, all right, off you go,” Toshiya said, and waved them on their way. Die didn’t miss the oddly significant look he shot Kyo as he walked past him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sorry if I’m kind of cranky,” Kyo said without turning towards Die. “It’s just been kind of a long day, but nothing against you personally.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die hummed, followed him back towards the hair-washing sinks. “Lots of appointments?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It never really seems to slow down lately, and some of these people who come in… No offense, but I’m pretty sure they’re <em>your</em> people.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sputtered out a laugh and took his seat. “I’m supposed to <em>not</em> be offended by that?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I just mean <em>models</em>, or—or <em>aspiring</em> models, or sometimes 'Instagram models,'” Kyo continued. “They talk about it at a constant, like they think someone will overhear and suddenly offer them a contract. Plus I think it pisses them off when I don’t <em>care</em>.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die grimaced as he leaned his head back over the lip of the sink. “Sorry, that does sound irritating.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s fine,” Kyo said. “It’s something of a skill of mine, tuning people out. And I really don’t give a damn if they’re pissed about it, either.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He settled into washing Die’s hair, the stream of water moving over Die’s head, hands sliding through soft tresses. A focus always came over him as he worked, and Die didn’t like to interrupt, especially since he was content to enjoy what Kyo was doing himself.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In fact he was almost worrying that he enjoyed it a little too much. Of course he’d always thought it felt nice to have someone wash his hair; that was only natural, and he was used to it, but with the new context of his and Kyo’s increasingly physical relationship, it was hard not to get hung up on just how <em>good</em> it felt.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He loved having Kyo’s hands on him, so dextrous and gentle—an artist’s hands, always touching Die in just the right way to make him feel like he was floating, while simultaneously grounding him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die wanted to watch Kyo as he worked, see the calm, thoughtful expression on his face as he leaned over Die and massaged his scalp, but he wasn’t trying to be a creep, or to make Kyo uncomfortable, so he concentrated on keeping his eyes—and mouth—closed. He was reasonably worried that a moan might slip out unbidden, and he was sure that Kyo didn’t want to deal with that kind of nonsense while he was working, even from his boyfriend.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, there was no harm in enjoying how Kyo touched him, and Die let himself get swept away in the sensation of it until he felt Kyo starting to towel-dry his hair, urging him to sit up.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Dozing off there?” Kyo asked, when Die finally opened his eyes. “Looked like you were getting pretty comfy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Felt good,” Die said honestly. “I was just relaxing.” Sitting up fully, he added, “Anyway, isn’t that better than talking your ear off about my modeling career or whatever boring shit those other people say?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ugh, true, I definitely prefer the sleepy silence.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t remember if I ever told you, when I was in Milan, one of the girls I was working with was totally hounding me for your info.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Professionally?” Kyo clarified.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course professionally,” Die said. “She was big into how you do my hair, and I had to promise her I’d look into openings for her at the salon.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So you’re part of the direct problem, inviting these people here, as well as your fans!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, see, this is the first you’re hearing about it,” Die argued. “I could tell she was someone who would drive you nuts, so I never had any intention of letting her actually come here.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Aww, you sabotaged a potential new client for me? I’m so moved,” Kyo said with a wry smile.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He led Die over to his regular station, ignoring his stammering protests all the while.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If next time you want some—aggressively flirtatious, touchy-feely—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This wasn’t the woman from your threesome, was it?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die looked at him with wide eyes. “Jesus, no!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo laughed. “All right, just checking.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, she’s—you know what, don’t even worry about her, she’s just. Wow, not my type.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo laughed again, his glasses sliding down his nose so he had to adjust them. “Well, thank you for playing defense and keeping her from getting an appointment. Honestly, we’ve got enough to deal with here as it is.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die had to admit, the salon was even more crowded than he usually saw it, and that was taking into account the fact that Toshiya made a point to schedule Die’s appointments at a time when they were less busy, so he could have some modicum of privacy. The demographic of other customers in the salon just then was not so much the type of people who were generally his fans, but the place was still far from deserted. Apparently the change in management had done little to damage their business.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He pretty quickly forgot about the presence of anyone else, however, as Kyo started his usual routine on his hair. Every touch was electric, relaxing Die and setting him on fire both at once. It was so <em>Kyo</em> though, in that it required no apparent effort whatsoever. Kyo made no show of touching Die in a way that would purposefully drive him wild, acted like Die’s hair was the easiest thing in the world for him to deal with, like he barely needed to think about the clever movements of his hands.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe Die was more affected by it than was normal. Was Kyo inadvertently helping him to discover some new kink? He was sure he’d never gotten so flustered by someone doing his hair before—But then Die had never actually had a thing with a hair stylist before. There had been a fling with a makeup artist once or twice, the odd photographer, models more than he’d kept track of, but getting his hair done had never been such a turn-on before Kyo.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It made him… <em>want</em>. Want <em>more</em>, want Kyo, right then, or as soon as possible. He started having some fantasy of Kyo leading him back to the stockroom, of boxes of combs and hairclips going tumbling as they devoured each other, hardly bothering to lock the door—</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s eyes snapped open as he caught himself, remembered Shinya’s wisdom; the suggestion that he focus on the <em>non-sexual</em> aspects of their relationship more. It was so <em>easy</em> to be <em>attracted</em> to Kyo, to let himself sink into that headspace of desire and need, but Kyo was too important for Die to let him think that was all he wanted from him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He watched Kyo in the mirror as he did the finishing touches on his hair, finally blow-drying it, smoothing it all out to its regular shine and flair. His face stayed so cool, his focus on his work, and Die was so fucking lucky to get to see him in these moments, to watch him candidly, when his honest self was all that showed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo snapped a picture of Die's completed hair, and started to clean up his work area.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’re still on to do something after this, right?” Die asked, hovering.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, sure,” Kyo said vaguely. “I just need to finish here…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Pushing down all his characteristic horniness, Die took a deep breath. “I was thinking—there’s some art showing, um, photography, at a gallery near my agency tonight. They’ll have refreshments, the photographer’s a really interesting woman—I’ve never worked with her personally, but, um. Yeah. Would you maybe wanna check it out?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was staring at him, eyes bright and interested. And he smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d really like that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Great! Okay,” Die said, letting out his held breath. How was it that <em>that</em> was even harder than asking Kyo out the first time? “I’ll, um, I’ll wait for you up at the front.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He went to the counter to schedule his next appointment with a bounce in his step. Truly, getting to see Kyo’s smile was better than any sex he could have had tonight.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I love you all very much~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It was only natural for relationships to mutate and change over time, Kyo reasoned. Some of those changes were bound to be positive, growth, while others weren’t.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With Die, the changes weren’t always easy to keep track of. Since his talk with Toshiya about how the current state of things was making both him and Die unhappy, there had been an oddly dramatic shift in the time he and Die were spending together,</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Much as Kyo would have liked to claim responsibility for this, say that it was thanks to his finally speaking up and saying something about the problem to Die, it actually seemed to come completely out of nowhere. Just all of a sudden, Die had started inviting Kyo <em>out</em> more often, to the kind of places and events that actually interested him. In the past few weeks, they’d gone to art galleries, historical sites, sweet shops, and a live performance, and Kyo had felt incredibly happy, comfortable. Time like that spent with Die made Kyo feel full, his heart and mind nearly overflowing with <em>Die</em>, <em>Die</em>, <em>Die</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He couldn’t understand it; neither how Die had been able to sense what they needed, nor how he could be so consumed with thoughts of Die from something so simple. Their actual physically-intimate activity had seen a marked subsidence, and yet he felt closer to him than ever, more in-tune with him than he had in a month.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’d love to make something like this,” Kyo commented as they stood there in another art gallery, looking intently at a multimedia piece, painting and collage behind a layer of hundreds of carefully-arranged, different-colored threads. It spoke to him in a way that he couldn’t describe easily with words, something comforting and familiar in it, even as it opened his mind with its originality.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They had already made it through some discussion of Kyo’s interest in visual art, so Die didn’t seem so surprised, but he did ask, “Why don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. "Well, now she’s already done it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then what is it about it that appeals to you?” Die said, tilting his head to one side. “The artist already made <em>this</em> piece, but you could try to capture some of the same energy in something that you make from your own experiences, your own voice.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was a small thing, but that simple encouragement moved Kyo, filled him with unexpected warmth.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What I like about it,” Die went on, “is the color—it’s so much, and I feel like I have to look <em>through</em> it to see the actual images, whose colors are so much softer, more muted, like when the truth is hidden under layers of performance and social expectation.” He chuckled, ducking his head. “I don’t know if that makes sense. Maybe I’m trying too hard to be deep.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To Kyo, though, it <em>did</em> make sense, and he loved that Die was able and willing to think deeply about the art in a personal way. He’d known plenty of assholes before who considered themselves artists, but really just looked at art as an opportunity to be pretentious and superior. Even he himself could, without a doubt, be pretentious, though not in that he would claim a more profound understanding than anyone else had of a work of art he was viewing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s analysis didn’t strike Kyo as pretentious. It was honest and thoughtful, and <em>different</em> from what Kyo saw in the work, which he loved perhaps best of all. It was always refreshing to hear a totally different and valid perspective. One that didn’t just sound like bullshit spouted to make the speaker sound more impressive.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He couldn’t say all of that, so Kyo just nodded. “I get what you mean.” They’d been standing there for a long while and it was about time for them to leave, so he nudged Die’s elbow. “What’s the artist’s name? I’d like to look her up later.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die leaned over to see the exhibit label to the left of the piece, and read off the artist’s name. “Huh. It’s a man, actually.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That only intrigued Kyo more, and he spent the next ten minutes talking rapidly about how it forced him to re-examine his own gender-based perceptions and expectations, how the use of texture expressed such softness that he’d mentally categorized it as something feminine, how he was even more determined than before to create something that broke invisible binary boundaries and evoked feeling without revealing anything about himself as an artist—and by the time he realized how inexcusably he was rambling they’d returned to the car, and Die still hadn’t said a word to interrupt him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Jesus,” Kyo said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—to go off like that. You can just tell me to chill when I start ranting.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But Die was smiling, and shook his head easily. “You’re inspired, you never have to apologize for that. I love seeing you so passionate about something.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Once again, Kyo was faced with support and acceptance for who he was and how he felt, rather than even any kind of gentle redirection. It shouldn’t have caught him so off-guard after all the conversations he’d already had with Die since their friendship began, but he still wasn’t altogether used to it. Even people who were <em>polite</em> about it in the past had made it clear that they wanted Kyo to be <em>less</em> of himself, and he didn’t honestly fault them for thinking that way.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He still couldn’t understand how Die thought differently.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They pulled up outside Kyo’s apartment, but before Kyo could move to get out the car, Die stopped him with a nervous edge to his voice.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, listen, um. It’s not—<em>now</em>, but I wanted to make sure not to spring it on you…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo raised his eyebrows, waiting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “There’s this event I’m supposed to go to,” Die said. “It’s not till after I get back from Paris, after Kaoru’s commercial shoot, you have a while to think about it, but if you’d be willing, I’d really like to take you. As my date.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> With all the dates they’d been going on, it struck Kyo as sort of odd that Die would get so squirrelly about asking him on another one. “What kind of event is it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shrugged dismissively. “Award night for fashion magazines, it’s just a big fussy excuse for everyone in the industry to dress nice and compare themselves to one another. I have to go every year. I get if you don’t want to go to something like that, though.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kind of like that gala where Toshiya and I ran into you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe,” Die agreed. “More press.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t just want to take Shinya again?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I could, but... I usually don’t want to bring someone as an actual date, unless it’s some stunt to mutually progress our careers,” Die said. “But you—it would mean a lot to me, if you would come. If I got to show you off.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was more weight to what Die was saying than Kyo expected, and he realized it probably had to do with their differences in attitude towards dating. If Die was unaccustomed to serious relationships, then he wouldn’t usually share them with his colleagues, and the idea that he <em>wanted</em> them all to see that he was with <em>Kyo</em> finally started to get through Kyo’s skull. It was decidedly a bigger deal than something like inviting him out to eat gourmet pancakes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of course I’ll go,” Kyo said. “But ah, we might have to work together to find me something to wear. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You never could,” Die said, laughing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, is that a challenge?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die just looked at him, smiling, a bizarrely palpable appreciation in his expression, and Kyo had to fight not to shrink away from it because it felt like so much.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ll text you later?” Die said, after a long moment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sounds good.” Kyo finally opened the passenger side door. “Drive safe.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I always do.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t watch him drive away, but he didn’t stop thinking about him, either, once he was inside his apartment, about the way Die listened to him and looked at him, and made him feel valued and wanted. It was strange, but it wasn’t bad, and through some weird set of circumstances, all Kyo’s mixed up feelings found him a short time later with his hand around himself, and Die still at the forefront of his mind.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was nothing sexual about the way they’d been interacting recently. They held hands, they kissed goodnight, there were light lingering touches to Kyo’s lower back that he didn’t hate, but they’d never been big on any kind of PDA, and they hadn’t been spending as much time staying in.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was fine with Kyo, and yet he was still there fantasizing about Die as he found his own pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And again, wondering, was he just completely fucked-up? How did it make sense that he didn’t want Die to touch him that way when he saw him in person, but he could happily use the mental images to get himself off? Why was there such a disconnect?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Overanalyzing his libido and desires wasn’t doing him any favors, so instead he thought about Die, about the darkness of his eyes when he took in everything that Kyo was offering him. There was a reverence in his expression that Kyo rather liked, and he also liked the turning point, where it got lost because Die couldn’t even keep himself in check anymore. That was the real moment of triumph for Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For whatever reason, he did like that feeling of being in control himself, but watching Die come undone, desperate and panting like an animal, raw and open, while Kyo meticulously pulled at the threads keeping him together. He could, if he watched carefully enough, pinpoint the exact moment where Die shattered, and he could smile to himself with the knowledge that it had been his own skill that had so debilitated his partner.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> These thoughts gradually shifted into something a little different as Kyo went on touching himself, pushing his jeans down to get a better grasp on his cock.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The thing was, that he knew there was more that Die wanted, that Kyo couldn’t properly provide. He sort of wished he could, if only to satisfy Die’s wishes, but he didn’t want to waste the energy trying and failing to cum for him, when he could be just as content with looking after himself on his own time, and spending time with Die doing something more pleasant.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Guilt prickled at him, though, since he was sure Die would like it; the feeling of Kyo’s body tightening around his cock, milking him. He might enjoy feeling some of that same sense of pride at giving Kyo pleasure that Kyo felt when he saw Die reach his end.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo closed his eyes, imagining it: Die’s length filling him, dirty words being whispered into his ear.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Wanna feel it</em>,” Die might say, close to the edge himself. “<em>Can you cum for me, baby? Cum right on my cock, make a mess of yourself?</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s head tipped back, his hand sped up obediently. It was what Die wanted, but…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>I—I don’t know if I can…</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Do it for me. Wanna feel you tight around my dick. Please?</em>”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo squeezed just below the head, twisted his hand just so, and his mouth fell open with a cry as he spilled over his fingers.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> No sooner had he cum, fantasy-Die’s praise still drifting through his mind, than Kyo’s phone vibrated on the bed next to him, notifying him of a new text.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo blinked a few times, trying to get his head back on straight, and reached for the phone with his clean hand. He was unsurprised to discover that the new message was from Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Whatcha doin’?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It would have been a perfectly reasonable time to lie. Die didn’t need to know the details of Kyo’s masturbation habits, and mentioning what he was up to at the moment would only perpetuate the sex weirdness that he was so happy to avoid. He didn’t want to keep sending Die these mixed signals.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But he had cum drying on his hand and his thigh, and Kyo had never been one to hide the truth or feel ashamed of his actions.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Just got myself off thinking about you inside me, begging me to cum on your cock.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Minutes passed with no response, and okay, maybe Kyo had been a little <em>too</em> honest. Perhaps that wasn’t information that Die wanted, or maybe he was in a public place, and a text like that could cause him embarrassment, if not worse trouble.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo went and cleaned up, unsure how he felt about what he’d just done. It was always nice to have an orgasm, the rush of dopamine that helped to quiet his brain and relax his body for a few minutes, but he still couldn’t understand the discrepancy between what he actually <em>wanted</em> in real life, and what got him off in a fantasy. Was he just… what, faking? Lying to his sex partners and himself? Maybe it really was just trust issues and selfishness…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was just about to send Die another message, apologizing for the thoughtless crudeness of the previous text and asking him to simply ignore it, when Die finally replied.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Mm, that’s one of my favorite things. I love being inside you so much, being close and connected to you like that. It really feels like we’re one, it's one of the best feelings in the world.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo stared at the words like they were written in a foreign language. It almost seemed like it didn’t follow as a response to what he’d sent, it was so—<em>soft</em>, so romantic.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The point of view, too, was so foreign to Kyo that he couldn’t process it. He tried to think of it like Die’s differing opinion of the art piece they’d seen at the gallery; valid even with how it contrasted with his own experience.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But still he squinted at the message in disbelief. Was that <em>really</em> how Die <em>felt</em>? It was so impossible to relate to that Kyo could scarcely comprehend it. How could two people <em>share</em> an experience and come out with such discrete results? They were there together, in the same bed, and yet Die was living it so separately from Kyo that he might as well have been on another planet.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There were plenty of other times when Kyo felt <em>connected</em> to Die, like when they started laughing at the same time, or during a quiet point in a movie, when Die would reach over and link his fingers with Kyo’s. Those were moments where Kyo thought they were close. Sex had never in his life given him a feeling of <em>one-ness</em> with his partner, no matter how deeply he cared for them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Of course there was absolutely no way he could say that to Die. How heartless would he have had to be? Die had just shared something rather intimate, and it was unthinkable to shut him down or devalue his confession.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At the same time, Kyo had no clue how to continue the conversation. He couldn’t lie and say <em>me too</em>, and he had basically no honest reaction to offer other than fumbling confusion.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Instead he tried to deflect, to go back to what he would have said if Die had never responded.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Sorry for texting you something like that.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>Don’t apologize! I love hearing you say dirty stuff like that, it’s a total turn-on</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[DIE]: </b><em>I would've texted back sooner but you got me so hot i got distracted touching myself ; )</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That information only made Kyo feel more conflicted. He liked knowing he’d turned Die on, even sort of enjoyed the thought that Die was touching himself to thoughts of him, but coming so quick on the heels of his confession about feeling so deeply connected to him during sex, it felt <em>weird</em>, and too <em>intimate</em>, and too—just fucking <em>weird</em>.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Clumsily, Kyo texted Die something about going to bed, and didn’t look at his phone for the rest of the night. That talk with Die about his feelings relating to sexuality—the one he’d been so adeptly avoiding for such a shamefully long time—really couldn’t be put off any longer</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay, well, y'all wanted them to talk, right?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Maybe it had taken longer than he was used to, or than he would have liked, but Die had finally come to a full understanding of his relationship with Kyo—for <em>real</em>, this time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d taken to heart all of Shinya’s wisdom and advice, kept careful watch over all his and Kyo’s interactions, Kyo’s responses, and had happily, at long last, managed to figure out the ideal balance in their relationship between the physical and the intellectual. They could spend time socially, go out, <em>and</em> have the best sex of Die’s life; it just required moderation, and Die had only had to learn the right way to handle it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And none too soon! His trip to Paris for work was right around the corner, and he was relieved that he’d come to a proper understanding of what they both needed before he had to leave the country.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Now that he had mastered that balance, it almost seemed funny that it had taken so long. He should have understood Kyo’s signals much sooner, understood that it wasn’t that Kyo didn’t <em>want</em> him, but that he’d just needed to learn Kyo’s <em>kinks</em>. That was only natural, after all. Surely, Die had a few kinks Kyo would need to figure out as well, but that was all part of a relationship.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die tried to keep all that in mind as he had Kyo crowded against the arm of the couch and was nibbling at his neck. What was it that Kyo had seemed to like? He’d told Die about getting off to the thought of Die fucking him, so maybe that was what he was into?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Plus texting him about it at all seemed to suggest maybe he liked <em>talking</em> about it more than Die had initially believed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Gonna work you up so good for me,” Die said, one hand slipping up under Kyo’s shirt. “Get you all needy, till you can’t stand it anymore, you just need me to fuck you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo made a small sound, squirmed beneath him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah? You like that? You want me to tease you, baby?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die, that’s…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Aww, I won’t be too cruel, don’t worry,” Die said soothingly. He slid his hand back down Kyo’s abdomen to the edge of his jeans. “All the teasing will be the good kind. I’ve been <em>dying</em> to taste your cock, and if you’re good, maybe I can even get you to cum more than once for me. What do you think, baby?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think,” Kyo said breathlessly, “I—I think—We need to talk.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die froze. “Talk?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Lightly, Kyo pushed at his shoulders, until Die was sitting up rather than leaning over him. “Talk, kind of a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It seemed sort of like Die might have floated out of his body, as he sat there, numb, staring at Kyo without seeing him. He wasn’t so dense as to not know what those words meant. But he couldn’t form a response, either. He was busy going over everything, wondering where precisely he’d fucked it all up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Obviously this wasn’t what Kyo wanted. Die had misread the signals <em>again</em>, even when he thought he’d finally gotten it right. The more frightening question was, had it been just now, or was it something he’d done previously and been too blind to see?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is… is that okay?” Kyo asked, but when Die just kept giving him that same blank look he specified, “Is it okay for us to talk now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I. I’m sorry,” Die said. It seemed like all he could say.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head. “It’s not your fault. That is—wait, what are you apologizing for?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die gestured ambiguously. “Whatever it is that I did.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You didn’t do anything,” Kyo said. He closed his eyes and breathed out. “I haven’t… communicated my needs. And it’s gotten to a point, where I feel like I have to be more honest with you—I should have been, earlier even—but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That… sounds pretty bad,” Die said, though he couldn’t stand to speculate very far as to where he was going with this.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I was worried you’d think so,” Kyo said. “It’s no excuse, but I guess that’s kind of why I didn’t bring it up sooner.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, this has been… something? For a while now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I just should have explained some of my feelings from the beginning.” Kyo was curling in on himself as he spoke, not like he was trying to <em>hide</em>, but like he was creating some safe cocoon around himself, a defense. It hurt Die to think Kyo would feel unsafe with him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is it something about me?” Die asked hesitantly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It isn’t,” Kyo replied. “It’s about me. Or, it’s about—Ugh. Okay. How much do you know about the ace spectrum?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was no way Die could have predicted those words coming out of Kyo’s mouth, and he had to shake his head a little, as if that might help him understand better. “Ace, like—like asexuality? Like a lack of sexual attraction.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked slightly relieved. “Right. Well, it’s a spectrum, so it’s not the same for everyone, but…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry, hold up,” Die said. “You’re—you’re ace? Meaning you’re… not attracted to me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s pause was not terribly reassuring. Then, “It’s complicated. I… like you—I <em>really</em> like you, I—But I don’t want you to think that you need to, um. <em>Satisfy</em> me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sexually.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right,” Kyo said again. “<em>You</em> like it, and that’s fine, that’s <em>great</em>, I’m glad, but for me, it’s not the same as it is for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Some kind of brand new horror was creeping through Die’s bloodstream to his brain. He was pretty sure he’d never gotten this speech from a partner before. “You don’t like having sex with me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s—It’s not <em>you</em>,” Kyo said. “I just don’t like sex, in general.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… see…” Die said, his brain screaming.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No,” Kyo said, “no, that’s not right. What I mean is—I do kind of like it sometimes. Or—parts of it. I like that you feel good. I just know that, for <em>you</em>, it <em>means</em> something, and to me it—doesn’t. Or—<em>no</em>, it—it does, it just means something <em>else</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At that point, Die was able to break through his own fog of horror to realize that Kyo was… <em>scared</em>. He’d never really seen Kyo <em>scared</em> before, but he was nearly shaking as he spoke, going on making himself smaller and smaller, and in a way, Die was grateful for the excuse to put his own feelings aside so he could express concern for Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey,” he said softly, and he reached tentatively for him. “Hey, what’s—what’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head, but didn’t push him away. “I knew I would explain it all wrong, and you—I didn’t want to say anything because you…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The sentence didn’t continue, so, frowning, Die prompted him, “I what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’d probably rather be with someone else, someone who isn’t <em>broken</em>, and I understand that—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Whoa, what?” Die cut him off. “Kyo, you are not broken.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>I</em> know that,” Kyo said, but his voice cracked a little. “But I know—other people, they say… I know what they think.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know who—You’re <em>not broken</em>,” Die said firmly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t complain or try to stop Die from taking him in his arms and pulling him close, but it was unclear whether he really took much comfort from it. Die didn’t call attention to the minute shaking of Kyo’s shoulders or the occasional sniffles that could be heard in the quiet of the room. He just let himself sink back into the quicksand of his own thoughts.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> This was new territory for him. The physical aspect of his relationships was usually the foundation, and certainly a lack of attraction on his lover’s part had never been an issue before.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It hurt even more than he would have anticipated. He’d already harbored some kind of insecurity, suspected that Kyo didn’t want him as much as he wanted Kyo, but having explicit confirmation of that suspicion, direct from Kyo’s mouth, brought a sharper, more real kind of pain with it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Here Die was, feeling more strongly about Kyo than he’d ever felt about anyone, thinking just <em>maybe</em> Kyo returned that feeling, thinking that Kyo had finally come to see him as something—some<em>one</em>—special.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shifted a bit in his arms, tucked his face against Die’s chest. He still wasn’t saying anything else, but was so clearly more distressed than Die had ever seen him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was the worst part of it all: that <em>fear</em> that Kyo had shown. Was he honestly <em>afraid</em> of Die? How had he thought Die was going to react, and what cause had Die given him to fear such a reaction?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sure, Die knew that Kyo had probably encountered some real assholes in the past, so maybe his distrust of Die was only based on those experiences, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had <em>made</em> Kyo feel that way, like he couldn’t trust him. After all, they were now <em>months</em> into their official relationship, and this was the first Die had heard of any of this; the first he’d heard of Kyo’s lack of attraction or his disinterest in sex—and they’d <em>had</em> sex!</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s arms tightened unconsciously around Kyo as he considered the fact more deeply. <em>Shit</em>, all this time they’d been fooling around, and he’d never even realized that it was something with which Kyo was so uncomfortable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was starting to think he would actually be sick. What the fuck was wrong with him? Was he <em>blind</em>? Kyo had repeatedly declined his offers of sexual attention, and yet he’d never put together that it was something he didn’t enjoy?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He could try to rationalize it, say that Kyo had come onto him first, but he’d have been lying if he said he hadn’t felt, even then, that something was off. Had he pressured Kyo into sleeping with him? He’d talked to him before they’d started dating about his somewhat promiscuous tendencies, and it was possible that, even if Die hadn’t put it into those exact words, Kyo had felt <em>obligated </em>to engage in activity with him that he’d rather have skipped altogether.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And Die had just let him do it. He’d <em>encouraged</em> it, even. Die had been taking advantage of Kyo this whole time.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die?” Kyo’s voice was soft and hoarse as he lifted his head to look at him. “Are—are you okay? You’re shaking.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “’m fine,” Die mumbled, resisting the urge to outright deny it. Maybe he really was shaking. He couldn’t even tell anymore.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The impulse to run was strong—<em>too</em> strong. Die didn’t think of himself as a runner or a quitter or a coward, generally speaking, but this… How could he recover from it? What was there to do or say that could make things right?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you angry?” Kyo asked quietly, that note of fear still there in his voice.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die wasn’t sure how to answer that. The truth was that he <em>was</em> angry, really <em>fucking</em> angry, with <em>himself</em>. But also disgusted, and horrified, and still so confused.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… don’t really know quite what I’m feeling right now,” is what he went with, though it was arguably the wrong thing to say.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrank from him again. “I can leave, if you want me to.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That definitely wasn’t what Die wanted, but at the same time, what right had he to ask Kyo to stay? Maybe Kyo would feel safer somewhere far away from him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Selfish and afraid, Die said, “I don’t want you to leave. I… I have to go on my trip for work tomorrow, and I won’t get another chance to see you for a while.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know,” Kyo said. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was really starting to hate that small fearful voice. Kyo wasn’t supposed to sound like that. Kyo was one of the strongest people he’d ever met, could do anything he set his mind to, didn’t care what anyone thought of him. It was Die’s fault that he sounded so unlike himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even knowing that, he couldn’t tell him to leave. “Can you just stay for now? I have a lot I need to process and understand, but I... like you to be here with me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded and curled back against his chest, acted like perhaps they were snuggling up and going to sleep, but Die didn’t even know how long they stayed there on the couch before they finally got up and moved to the bed; he just knew neither of them slept during that time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All in all, it had gone about as well as could have been expected—which is to say, it had gone terribly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was true that Die hadn’t yelled at him or berated him or cast him out, but that had never been the sort of rejection Kyo had most feared from him. Instead, Die had been painfully gentle, held him close, and then left him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Okay, not left <em>him</em>, but left. Left the country.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And there really was no telling what state their relationship would be in when he got back.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">At first, Kyo tried to convince himself it was an opportunity, to do something of his own, time to work on personal projects. If he was suffering, he could pour that into some art, put it down and give it physical, terrible form. But nothing came out right. It all seemed to be scribbles and smudges that even he himself couldn't make sense of, and it did nothing to heal him. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">So, Kyo made himself available to Toshiya, as much as he could, hoping to keep himself distracted with tasks to help the salon through its transitional phase. There were huge long checklists of things to be done, but usually Toshiya waved him off, happy to do it on his own, and Kyo was afraid that insisting would only call more attention to his emotional distress.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hadn’t told his friend anything about how it had all gone down. He didn’t even want to think about it, about the uncertain state of things, about his own fear over it. Presumably whatever storm clouds of moodiness were emanating from Kyo were just taken as his usual self-pitying bullshit and not recognized as new drama.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">All that was left to keep him busy was his actual job, but staying focused on his work wasn’t easy. Kyo was restless, his mind even moreso, as he struggled through his scheduled appointments. It wasn’t like him to be so preoccupied with romantic difficulties. At least it hadn’t been like him before Die, but maybe he could admit that it was sort of the norm these days.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In all the times he’d worried that he’d fucked things up though, he’d never been as sure as he was now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And then his two o’clock showed up, looking surprisingly… murderous?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe that was extreme, but she was <em>glowering</em> at him, as if he’d done something to personally offend her before she even sat down in the chair, and despite her relatively small stature, Kyo found such an attitude rather intimidating. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1"><span class="s1">He didn’t think he would even have noticed if it hadn’t been that he’d actually seen her before. </span>Kyo would have been the first to admit that he didn’t always pay the most attention to the people he met, and especially not his one-off clients. However, this girl, he seemed to recall, was one of Die’s fans.</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And now she was trying to incinerate Kyo with her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was already in such an emotionally vulnerable place that he took it harder than he might have otherwise.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You have something you wanna say to me?” he demanded, grip tight on his comb like it would protect him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The girl just sneered, and spent the rest of the appointment furiously texting, not making eye contact again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was used to assholes, and knew better than to take their behavior personally, but her being a Die fan made it different. It almost felt like being glared at by Die himself. Had he publicly denounced Kyo, from Paris or wherever the fuck he’d gone, and Kyo had just been uninformed thus far?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was paranoid and unhelpful thinking, but even when Kyo tried to steer himself away from it, he couldn’t escape the negative thoughts about how he’d sabotaged the best relationship he’d ever had.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Snapping at the customer seemed to bring Toshiya’s attention down on him after all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You <em>still</em> haven’t talked to him?” he said, approaching Kyo’s station once she’d gone, hands on his hips. “If you’re gonna be this—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I did talk to him,” Kyo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya’s expression changed. “Wait, you did?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded. “I tried to explain—about everything. And now he’s in France for work, and I’m. Terrified.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Terrified of what?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That I fucked up. Because I <em>know</em> I did. That I had something good, and… he looked so hurt. I hurt him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You didn’t hurt him,” Toshiya said. “Or maybe he was hurt by what you said, but that wasn’t your intent, and it’s important that you were honest with him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I never wanted him to—to <em>look</em> like that, because of me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What did he say?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not much,” Kyo said with a shrug. “But I think he was angry. He didn’t say he wasn’t. Angry and hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think you’re jumping to conclusions,” Toshiya said, but he didn’t sound all that sure of himself. “Have you talked to him since he landed? I know you think talking got you into this mess, but avoiding communication isn’t going to help you feel better.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He’s busy,” Kyo muttered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Last time Die was abroad for work, before they’d started dating, <em>he</em> had been the one to reach out to Kyo, messaging him even when Kyo was sure he should have been sleeping. Now it had been three days of radio silence, and it felt like he’d been cut off and left to drown.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But if Die needed time to deal with everything Kyo had told him, Kyo wouldn’t interrupt. He just hoped his way of dealing didn’t involve seeking <em>comfort</em> from the other models he was working with in Paris.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In his state of distraction, Kyo almost didn’t realize that his next appointment was Shinya. It wasn’t till he was sitting in the chair that Kyo looked at him properly, and then he nearly jumped in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya just looked sort of amused. “Hullo, Kyo.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hey,” Kyo said. “I’m sorry, I’m—I’ve been kind of out of it, I guess. It won’t impede my ability to do your hair.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I see,” Shinya said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He let Kyo work in relative silence, thought Kyo caught him watching him in the mirror more often than not. There was something humiliating about losing his chill in front of Shinya, and yet it was so inevitable that Kyo couldn’t beat himself up about it too much.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Focusing on the hair he was styling helped Kyo, not to be distracted from his worries exactly, but to feel calm, like he had some control over something, however briefly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Mentally, yes, he was still spiraling, thinking about how <em>easy</em> it would be for Die to find someone else, someone who could tell him definitively and conclusively that they were attracted to him, someone with whom Die could <em>share</em> that feeling of connectedness during sex. Wouldn’t he be happier with someone like that?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The thoughts started to echo with a dull sort of resignation, rather than something panicked or frenzied. It was too late to make a change. Die would be better off with someone who could understand his need for physical intimacy, could provide it to the extent that he wanted it, and Kyo… Well, he could be a big enough person to let Die go towards what was best for him, even if it moved him further away from Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> By the time Shinya’s hair was finished, Kyo had gone more or less numb. His thoughts were still tangled and alive, but he couldn’t really feel anything anymore.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was several seconds before he registered the weight of Shinya’s hand resting on his shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You really are out of it,” Shinya observed. “Listen, why don’t we go get some dinner together. You don’t have any more appointments for the day, do you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo swallowed. “That’s—It’s nice of you to offer, really, but I do have—I think a couple more—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Toshiya already told me you’re finished,” Shinya interrupted flatly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was no way to argue with that. Kyo didn’t know why he wanted to fight it anyway. He and Shinya had never really hung out, but he liked him, and maybe it was good for him to spend less time alone in his head.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya waited patiently for him to collect his things, and they walked out together, not speaking as Shinya led the way to a nearby yakiniku restaurant. Kyo went along with it, still feeling hazy and numb from his acceptance that Die would undoubtedly want to move on from Kyo during his time abroad. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It didn’t seem that Shinya expected much more of him anyway, until they were finally seated in the restaurant with cups of tea steaming between them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m going to skip the preamble,” Shinya said then. “A few weeks ago, when I spoke to Die about how things were going between you two, he seemed very concerned. I’d thought the situation had improved, but seeing you today, I’m not so optimistic.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not optimistic either,” Kyo said, unsure how else to respond.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “About what, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die is out of the country.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Paris, I know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And we didn’t. Part on the best of terms,” Kyo said. He rotated his teacup on the table, but didn’t pick it up. “I told him—I said some things I shouldn’t have, in the wrong way.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What kind of things did you say?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo hesitated, then said quietly, “True things.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "Even if what you said…” Shinya stopped, started again. “I’m sure you weren’t deliberately cruel. There’s nothing wrong with saying something true to him. Did… you two break up?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked up from his tea in surprise. “<em>What</em>? Die said that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No!” Shinya held up his hands. “Die hasn’t updated me on anything about this, actually, that’s… part of why I wanted to speak to you. Normally he shares more about his private life than I want to hear, but since since he left on his trip, he’s been conspicuously quiet on the subject.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo leaned his elbows on the table, put his head in his hands. “I tried to explain that I don’t really <em>get</em> anything out of sex, and that I don’t—<em>care</em> about it in the way he does, and I’m worried now that… Well, I would understand, if he went looking for it elsewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya was frowning deeply. “What did he <em>say</em> in response to your telling him this?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not much. But he's told me before, how important physical stuff is to him, how even <em>you</em> know he’s—well, kind of promiscuous?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, but that’s—yes, I tease him for that kind of thing sometimes, but that’s because I’ve never really seen him in a committed relationship. What he has with you is more serious than what I’ve seen him have with anyone else before. And I don’t say that to frighten you, but I want to impress upon you how much you <em>mean</em> to him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wanted to believe that. He thought of how it had felt to have Die holding him, <em>sheltering</em> him, even after Kyo had hurt him; he’d felt safe and secure in his arms, even when he hadn’t deserved it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Does that matter, if I can’t give him what he needs from a relationship?” Kyo asked miserably.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is it possibly a matter of him not giving you what <em>you</em> need?” Shinya said. “You’ve said you don’t get anything out of it, but perhaps if you offered him more direction…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t need—or <em>want</em>—anything,” Kyo said firmly. “I’ve been through this with enough other people to be sure of where I stand on that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, if you really feel that strongly about it… Perhaps there’s an alternate solution,” Shinya said. “Have you considered an open relationship?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo crumpled onto the table. That was always the suggestion people came up with, but it <em>wasn’t</em> what Kyo wanted. Was he just being selfish? He knew that it was important and meaningful to Die, but some part of him just really couldn't understand how something as trivial as <em>sex</em> would be worth going outside a monogamous relationship for.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not saying that's the only solution,” Shinya said. “Certainly, without hearing Die’s side of things I’m not capable of recommending any one course of action. But I would urge you not to give up hope. He’ll be back by the end of the month.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t lift his head from where it lay, resting on his forearms. “When he gets back we have a commercial.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What kind of commercial?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That photographer, Kaoru, who we worked with on the shoot before, requested us as his team for this commercial.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, then, see, that’s good,” Shinya said. “Something to look forward to, prepare for.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die hasn’t messaged me since he left for Paris.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm. I understand how that could be troubling to you, but it may just be that he’s extremely busy. My impression is that these trips abroad are a total whirlwind of activity.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sure, activity in close quarters with dozens of other gorgeous models, late nights, afterparties… He’s probably busy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Hey</em>.” Shinya's tone had suddenly gone much sharper. “There is no reason for you to believe that Die would be unfaithful to you. If you haven’t yet had a conversation about how you can both have your needs met, then he would never act like that on his own.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo sat up, slumped back in his seat, and studied Shinya’s face. He trusted Shinya without even having to think about it, and Shinya had known Die longer than Kyo had. There was good reason to believe he knew what he was talking about.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, Kyo asked hesitantly, “You really think so?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I do,” Shinya assured him. “As I told you, I haven’t seen him in a long-term, serious relationship like this before, but he’s a loyal person. He wouldn’t do anything to cause you pain, not intentionally.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded, swallowed, and nodded again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya finally called the server over and ordered their food.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They didn't dwell on Kyo’s personal problems for the rest of the meal. Kyo knew that Shinya was probably right, that he should take comfort from his wisdom and experience, but it was hard when Kyo had been told so many times that the way he was was <em>wrong</em>, that he should change for the benefit of others. Maybe that was the case now, too. Wouldn’t it make things easier on both of them if Kyo was different? Or if he let Die go to live his life without holding him back, or if he allowed Die the freedom to at least seek sexual fulfillment with someone else?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The thought stung too much. Maybe jealousy was toxic and counterproductive, but Kyo <em>hated</em> the thought of Die climbing into bed with someone else, holding and kissing some stranger instead of him. He didn’t want to lose that part of what they had, didn’t even want to lose the pride he took in bringing Die such immense pleasure.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya talked about his YouTube channel, the models who all wanted a piece of his publicity, and Kyo listened, but he was also elsewhere entirely: in his head, juggling designs for the upcoming commercial shoot, and organizing his thoughts regarding what he really <em>wanted</em> and was willing to offer with Die. If Shinya noticed his distraction, he was polite enough not to mention it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Not sure if I'll get to update on Wednesday this week, but if not, this chapter's a little longer, so maybe it'll tide y'all over.<br/>The end is in sight........</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Touching down in Tokyo was a relief, although Die was honestly carrying too many anxieties for it to be enough to alleviate all of them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The flight had been spent, as his whole trip had been, reading everything on the topic of asexuality that he could get his hands on, every minute he’d had to spare. He’d tried to focus on articles and essays written by individuals actually <em>on</em> the ace spectrum, though he’d read a fair amount of pieces from sexual health and psychology journals, too.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was a better use of his time than that first day, which had been spent utterly haunted by disgust with his own behavior. He kept thinking of how many times when they’d been together he’d <em>crowded</em> Kyo, practically <em>trapped</em> him, hardly left him a choice or a say in what they were doing. At the time, Die had had no reason to think there was anything wrong with that, but it was no wonder that Kyo had been afraid to be honest with him. There had hardly even been time to <em>establish </em>trust between them before Die had violated it. However, as important as it was to reflect on his mistakes, and to consider how he could make personal adjustments for Kyo’s safety and comfort, Die also knew he couldn’t make it all about him. Kyo needed his support, and if he didn’t know exactly how to offer it, it was his job to study.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d learned more than he’d ever thought possible, but he still had too many questions to count. He’d gotten in touch with experts, people on the internet who patiently endured his ignorance and explained matters with more gentleness than he deserved, but they also had one thing they’d all told him again and again: if he wanted to understand Kyo, he needed to talk to <em>Kyo</em>. Everyone’s experience being ace is different, and in order to know what exactly Kyo needed, Die would have to listen to what he had to say.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He couldn’t pretend it was easy. Much as he’d have liked to just take it in stride, Die was having a difficult time. It was a painful shock to find out that Kyo didn’t feel that same beautiful, almost <em>spiritual</em> connection that Die did when they made love. And it was hard to process an expression of love to the same depth as Die’s own that didn’t include that kind of physical demonstration.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d run over Kyo’s words in his mind so many times that he didn’t think he’d ever forget them, despite how painful they’d been to hear. Kyo had said that he <em>liked</em> for Die to feel good, and certainly in their times together, it had seemed like Kyo wanted Die to find pleasure; the part he’d rejected had always been the reciprocation. Assuming that Kyo was telling the truth, and not just saying that out of fear, or for politeness’ sake (and Die <em>had</em> to assume Kyo was telling the truth—there was no <em>reason</em> to think he would lie to him, especially not about something this important), maybe there was still a way for them to continue a somewhat unconventional physical relationship.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die didn’t know how he felt about things being one-sided like that, though. He wanted Kyo’s comfort and safety above all else, but wouldn’t it be selfish for him to accept Kyo’s favors and offer <em>nothing</em> in return? What else was there, that he could do to show Kyo how deeply he felt about him?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hated to admit it, but the whole situation had only further hindered his ability to communicate. He wanted to learn more, to understand more, and he <em>knew</em> he had to get that from Kyo, but his own insecurity held him back. What if his limited interpretation was completely wrong? Kyo had been so <em>scared</em> when he'd told Die how he felt. What if his further explanation confirmed that he'd felt pressured by Die to engage in sexual acts that made him uncomfortable or caused him serious emotional or psychological distress? Die didn't think he could stand to have that verified.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That meant that Die had hardly spoken to Kyo at all while he was abroad. There had been too much heavy stuff on his mind for him to ignore it and act like everything was fine, so he’d only managed sparse, undetailed updates, and Kyo hadn’t attempted to get anything more in-depth out of him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even getting back into Japan, Die had no immediate plans to see Kyo. He <em>wanted</em> to see him, to tell him that everything would be okay, that they’d work through it all together, but what if that reunion was pure fantasy? What if Kyo didn’t want to see him?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At any rate, he'd have to see him in only a couple days, when they both went to Kaoru's commercial shoot. Under normal circumstances, that might have been an uplifting thought; he'd seen the concepts and would have been excited for the work if he could have spared the energy. Now it was just nerves.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die's phone started vibrating, and for once he welcomed the approach of Customs as an excuse to not answer the incoming call from his manager.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was the other thing he'd been doing the whole time he was in Paris: dodging calls and emails from his management company. It had been a more or less daily thing, ominous messages just demanding that he get in touch ASAP, and Die had been in no state to take on whatever stressful bullshit they might have prepared for him. Wasn’t it enough that he was there, doing his job, making as much nice with the other models as he could handle?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Putting it off only made it worse, and Die knew that, but once he’d ignored the first phone call, it had been easier to blow off the second, third, sixth. He’d even sent a handful of texts—<em>Sorry, must have just missed you, talk later?</em>—so no one could be worried that he was totally MIA. He just didn't think he needed any more to deal with at the moment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It couldn’t last forever, though, and as soon as Die got home from the airport, his phone was going off again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He stared down at it, then answered reluctantly, “Hello, this is Die.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>Die!</em> Finally he picks up his damn phone!” his managed hissed, sounding none too pleased.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, wow, Nakamura-san, hey! Good to hear from you!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Where the hell have you been?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Y’know I was just about to jump in the shower, could I give you a call back in, like, an hour?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t you <em>dare</em> hang up!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die bit back a sigh, and sat down on his couch. “I only just walked in the door maybe five minutes ago.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What, and your phone hasn’t worked until just now?” Nakamura said skeptically. “I know you’ve been receiving my messages.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, but, I guess maybe there’s some problem with my overseas plan,” Die said, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “All my calls were going straight to voicemail or something.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I see.” Die could tell she didn’t believe that for an instant.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What’s the emergency anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, if you’d bothered to reply to a single one of my emails, you would know that we have a pretty dire situation on our hands.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Dire in what way?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a pause, then, “There are photos online, and I don't know who leaked them, but there are too many for us to just make them disappear.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s stomach sank. Photos? Of him? He was usually careful when it came to things like sending nudes, but there was always the chance that some vengeful ex had pictures he never even knew about. That many, though? “What kind of photos are we talking about here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Photos of <em>you</em>,” Nakamura said impatiently, “out and about with some little tattooed yakuza-looking nerd. Clearly on <em>dates</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What?” Die’s mouth had gone dry. “What does that…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your fans are close to hysterical,” Nakamura went on. “Your personal life is your own business, but something like this could damage your career.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die tried to make sense of her words. “Something like this?” He tugged nervously at his hair. “I’ve—I’ve never made my bisexuality a secret, I’m not willing to go back into the closet just to protect my image.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then you confirm that this guy is your boyfriend?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes,” Die said. “Yes, his name is Kyo, he’s a hair and makeup artist. We’ve been together for months.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Christ,” Nakamura muttered, “this is worse than I thought. Please tell me you haven’t gone around spreading this information to anyone?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die stopped to think about it. He was never one to be especially public about his relationships, but he certainly hadn’t tried to hide it either, and with Kyo, he’d been so excited… “Maybe a few people.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you know this is the kind of thing the company could drop you for?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “For dating a man?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “For dating <em>any one person</em>, in such a public way,” Nakamura said. “I have to do all this damage control now, because your fans think you’re off the market.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I <em>am</em> off the market.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not as far as your fans are concerned, you got that? Don’t pretend like you don’t know how this works, you’ve been in the game long enough. Part of your job is to be a fantasy, something they can <em>dream</em> of getting their hands on. If you’re totally unattainable, you lose that appeal.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s fucked up,” Die said. “I’m a grown man, I can’t <em>not date</em> just because some teenagers want to believe I’m saving myself for them. And how is that I’ve never gotten this lecture before? You’ve never had a problem with me dating in the past.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This is different,” Nakamura said. “Usually you’re with someone different every week, and they’re fellow models, or actresses, someone else in the industry. This guy you’re seeing now, he’s a nobody, that doesn’t boost your publicity at all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So,your problem really is that I’m… dating one, regular guy?” Die said in disbelief.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "Precisely. Or, <em>more</em> precisely, that you're being <em>seen</em> dating one regular guy. I don't give a damn what you do behind closed doors."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "Then, what, you're asking me to hide him like some dirty secret?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m asking you to date around,” Nakamura said. "We could still save your image if the public sees you with some other arm candy here and there. What happened to that sweet little YouTuber you took to the Spring Style Gala?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shinya is just a friend," Die said. It shouldn’t have surprised him that his manager had eyes on him at all times, but the reminder was still unsettling.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s fine," Nakamura said dismissively. "Ooh, why don’t you make some statement, that you and the tattooed hair-boy are just friends too? That might quell some of the rumors."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t want to outright lie to the public,” Die argued. “And I’m not going to 'date around' when I’m in a monogamous relationship with someone.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> An exasperated sigh came across the line. “I’m not saying you have to suck anyone’s dick, just be <em>seen</em> with other people, have dinner, hold hands…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sex is not the only thing that separates a fake relationship from an authentic one,” Die growled.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura was quiet for a moment, then said, “I am going to <em>strongly recommend</em> that you take another date—preferably a <em>woman</em>—to the Trend Awards next month, and that’s all we’re going to say about it for now.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She hung up before Die could argue further.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was really at a loss. They weren’t giving him any say in the matter, and he was pretty sure Kyo wouldn’t be thrilled with the prospect of him seeing other people, even if he could make it clear that those people meant nothing to him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was all so unfair. And why did it have to come up <em>now</em>? Things were already so fragile with Kyo. How could he add layers of complication and deceit to it? Plus, it was hard enough to make time in his schedule for Kyo; how much harder would it be when he had to split his social time between him and <em>staged</em> dates?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He would need to discuss all of it with Kyo when he saw him, all this extra drama and ugliness. He wondered if he could have avoided some of the gravity of the situation if he hadn’t put off talking to his manager so long.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die lay down flat on the couch, looked up at the ceiling. His whole life was spinning out of control and he had no sense of where it would go next. The awards party was only a few weeks away, and of course he’d been planning to take Kyo. He’d already invited him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And honestly, he'd even been <em>excited</em>, since it was the first big industry event he’d had the chance to bring Kyo to, as his date. He was so proud, wanted to show Kyo off and let everyone see how lucky he was. Could his management company really steal that chance from him?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s eyes closed. He couldn’t afford to be rebellious or ungrateful. His successful career was almost entirely thanks to Nakamura and her firm. They’d made him who he was: a known and respected name in the industry. They had set him up with agents, gotten him gigs ever since he was gangly and awkward and green, and still got him jobs now, when many would probably have dismissed him as over the hill. He was fortunate, and didn’t want to lose what he had.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> What Die thought he really needed was some damn <em>advice</em>, but for once he couldn’t stand to bring any of it up to Shinya. For all Shinya's tolerance, Die didn’t think he could bear to face Shinya’s disapproval over this particular shitshow, not when it was so easy to point out each of Die’s glaring mistakes leading up to it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So he resigned himself to yet another mistake, and kept silent when he should have called for help.</span>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was early to the shoot for the commercial. He wanted to get there before Kyo, to maybe have a chance to warn Kaoru that he was in some—well, <em>warm</em> water, with his manager, and to ensure that no one on set would be taking any <em>incriminating</em> photos of him and Kyo that could be leaked online. It was sheer luck that Nakamura hadn’t found out they were working together on the shoot or she might have pulled some strings and had Kyo removed from the project altogether.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> However, Kyo was already there, chatting with Kaoru as they pored over some sketches. He’d changed his hair since Die had last seen him, but he looked well, and he looked—busy. There was a lot to be done. From the emails Die had received, the makeup would be pretty intense, fantastical. There was a huge water tank already set up, where Die knew he’d be filmed for some underwater shots as some type of merman.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Naturally, the commercial was for an energy drink.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After spending a few minutes anxiously hovering, waiting for a break in their conversation where he could insert himself, Die gave up and headed for hair and makeup, where the couple of assistants already there greeted him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I thought your call wasn't for another thirty minutes,” one girl said in surprise. “Did they make some change to the schedule?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, nothing like that. I just… was able to get here sooner, so I did. Sorry to worry you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She was plainly relieved. “Okay, good. I hadn’t finished prepping everything yet. There’s… a lot of sequins.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die laughed. “Take your time, I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He only had to wait a few more minutes though, before the other assistant came over and had him sit down to start work on his hair. It didn’t require much in the way of styling, since the idea was for it to billow majestically around him in the water, but it needed to be prepared anyway. And… glitter-ized. That would be hell to wash out later.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His stomach twisted as he waited for Kyo to come in. It was taking longer than he’d really expected, and he was reminded of the anxiety he’d felt at the first photoshoot they’d worked on together, how he’d worried about Kyo’s professionalism and his attitude towards him. His professionalism wasn’t in question now, but Die was still afraid of how he might act towards him, given everything that had happened.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The comb skimming through his hair wasn’t calming in the way that it sometimes was. Nothing was grounding him, and the quiet in the room was eating at his nerves. Even though filming wouldn’t begin for another couple hours, that familiar flutter of stagefright was stirring within Die, making him feel almost nauseous. Or was that just his worry over seeing Kyo? It all blended queasily together.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Despite how he’d been waiting for him, Die was nearly startled when Kyo finally strode confidently into the room with a, “You guys already got started, awesome.” He looked around, “How are the sequins, everything ready?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The two assistants moved to confer with him, and Die watched them in the mirror, loving how Kyo was willing and able to take command. He felt proud of him for overcoming whatever his own anxieties were, venturing outside his comfort zone. He just wished Kyo would at least say hello when he came in.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But then Kyo did address him, to say, “Die, could you take off your shirt, please? Sakamoto-san, can you grab a robe for him?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> One of the assistants moved quickly to the other side of the room, and Die nodded quietly and pulled off his shirt, careful not to mess up his hair as he did so. He folded the shirt and set it on the counter in front of him. He still wanted to say something to Kyo, to <em>hold</em> him, or apologize, or probably both, but he was uncomfortably aware of the other people still hovering around, of his manager’s warnings about the overly public nature of his relationship. It was just another of his mistakes, not making a point to see Kyo alone, before encountering him in the workplace.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sakamoto returned with a thin robe for Die to put on and he thanked her.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo watched him, but there was no readable feeling in his gaze. Much as Die would have liked to see some heat there, he could tell the only arousal in the room was on his own end, just from the mere knowledge that Kyo’s eyes were on him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Once we start doing the makeup, it would be harder for you to remove your t-shirt,” Kyo explained apologetically, though he didn’t really need to. “Especially since we’ll be decorating down onto your neck and shoulders, too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s fine,” Die said. “Look, I—I wanted to talk to you—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo held up a hand, smiling in a sad kind of way. “Later, okay? I’m not… I can’t talk about something else right now. Let me do my work?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s heart sank but he agreed, and Kyo began the long and arduous process of his makeup.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As he had the previous time, Kyo kept an assistant close by to chat with Die while he himself focused on the actual application of the makeup, but Die found it difficult to stay tuned into the conversation when all he wanted to do was watch Kyo work.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was well experienced in the art of keeping still, but he wasn’t used to feeling so tense while he did. After so much time away from him, now Kyo was <em>here</em>, <em>touching </em>him, eyes scarcely leaving Die's face. It was a lot. Die worried that his heart would be pounding so hard that it would actually disrupt the process of meticulously affixing countless sequins to his skin. There was just too much on his mind, too much he was keeping inside, and whatever Sakamoto was chattering on about seemed ludicrously unimportant.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, the time passed, and Kyo’s only words were gentle instructions on which way Die should turn his face, or soft warnings before he did anything that could cause Die discomfort. He was perhaps the kindest and most efficient makeup artist with whom Die had ever worked, and Die had never thought the people he’d worked with in the past were bad at all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The usual ache that came simply from sitting in one place for such a prolonged time was almost nonexistent because Die had been so preoccupied he’d hardly noticed just how long he was stuck in the makeup chair. Unfortunately, reality carried on when Kyo stepped back and announced that Die was finished.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The mermaid tail wasn’t any sort of shock; Die had had to try it on at a fitting back before he’d gone on his trip out of the country. Once he got into it, though, his mobility was seriously limited, and a staff member had to steer him out to the set in a wheelchair.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, there he is,” Kaoru said as he came in. “What a transformation, Die, you don’t look remotely human.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Thank you,” Die said with a snort.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a familiar man there beside Kaoru, a stocky sort of guy with interesting sideburns, but Die couldn’t quite remember how he knew him, and he made no comment for the time being as they got underway.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Despite the difference in medium, Kaoru took charge just as efficiently on a CM set as he did at a still photoshoot, and Die felt completely at ease, even when he was being helped into the water tank, so they could get the underwater shots they wanted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Truth be told, they didn’t spend all that much time on that. They did get a handful of full-body shots of Die in the water, from a few different angles, but though he was a decently experienced swimmer, he wasn’t accustomed to being stuck in a mermaid tail, and no one wanted to put his safety at risk.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, even moving through it quickly, Kaoru seemed very pleased with the footage they were getting so far, and impressed with how well Die’s makeup was holding up submerged in water. Naturally, Kyo had made a lot of extra effort waterproofing the look, but until they tried it out, there had been no way to know for sure how secure it would be.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They came in for minor touchups before they transitioned to the next portion of the commercial, which featured Die rising up out of a mystical forest pond, offering the product to a young woman who was passing by.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die had never worked with this actress before, but he'd seen her name around as an up-and-coming starlet. She seemed nice enough when he met her, and he found the man on set who had seemed so familiar was her manager, Boo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I'm a big fan, actually,” she told Die, though the blush peeking through her foundation would have made the fact obvious anyway. “That’s probably super unprofessional to say, I'm sorry!"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s fine," Die said, smiling his trademark smile. "I'm flattered."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Your video where you shared details about your skincare was basically a revelation,” she said. “I went and bought so many of those products after that." She giggled.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, you've been watching Shinya’s Channel? That's great,” Die said. In a lowered voice he added, “Though I feel like I should mention—It was pointed out to me that a couple of those brands have less than ethical testing practices..."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shinya is great!” she said, waving off the rest of his comment. “Ever since you were a guest on his show, I’m a faithful subscriber."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sort of distantly realized, with the pointed fluttering of her eyelashes, that she was flirting with him. In another time in his life, he might have let it go there; she was pretty cute, and it would have been all too easy to take her home after the shoot.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Today, the notion didn't appeal to him whatsoever.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Kyo, once again making some friendly conversation with some of the crew members, and he felt his heart being tugged <em>physically</em> towards him, until his chest ached. There was a smile on Kyo’s face, but it looked sad to Die, not the wholehearted one that Die took such pride in putting there. It was worse to know the <em>sadness</em> in that smile was probably there because of Die, too.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The next portion of the shoot took a bit longer, since they needed more angles of Die interacting with the actress, and they had to get the shot right where he didn’t emerge from the water looking like a drowned rat. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even when Die was starting to feel tired, though, he wasn’t complaining, just because it was so much more fun and interesting than most of the modeling work he did recently. Plus it was engaging enough to take his mind off his other problems almost completely, at least while the camera was rolling.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Another round of touchups, and then they got some closeups, including ones of him handing her the product (which had to be filmed once he was dry, so that his skin wasn’t all pruny in the shot), and finally had Die record the voice-over, wrapped in terrycloth robe with a mug of hot tea in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was late evening by the time they were finished, and Die and his co-star both received bunches of flowers before they were dismissed to clean up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo caught up with them before they made it back to wardrobe. “Thank you for today, and for your kindness with my client,” he said, and bowed. “As always, it’s a pleasure to see you work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The pleasure was all mine,” Die replied. “It’s nice to see you again!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I wasn’t sure you'd even remember me,” Boo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t strike me as someone forgettable,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo laughed heartily.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His client seemed less amused, as she stood by, ignored, but she was either too polite or too intimidated to assert herself more. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru came over too, slapped Boo good-naturedly on the back. “He’s at it again, I see?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We were just catching up,” Boo said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sure,” Kaoru said. “Die, thank you again for your work today. You never disappoint, and neither does Kyo. I hope to have you both on my team again in the future. And actually..." He rubbed a hand through his hair. "Kyo does such good work, I've been thinking about visiting his salon to get my hair done. You'll forward me the information for it, won't you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">"I'd be happy to. Thank you."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He and Kaoru both bowed, and it was finally time for Die to go scrub nine thousand sequins off his skin.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To his surprise, Kyo was still there in the makeup room, cleaning everything up. Die would have expected him to have gone home already, especially since his assistants were nowhere to be found, but Kyo was still just working like it was the most normal thing in the world.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Otsukaresama," Die said tentatively as he approached the counter where his belongings were sitting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo muttered his reply without looking up from his task.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die set down his flowers and tried to organize his things. He pulled out a pack of makeup removal wipes to start cleaning some of the color from around his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Here.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die looked over to see that Kyo was gesturing to a large sheet of plastic spread on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “For the sequins," Kyo explained. “Might be easier to get most of them off here, for easy cleanup. That way there’s no worries about them clogging your shower drain or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh.” Die crossed to the plastic, stepped out of his slippers and onto the sheet in his bare feet. “That’s a good idea, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No problem,” Kyo said. He handed him a wet washcloth, which smelled rather strongly of makeup remover, apparently having anticipated his every need, and then slunk back over to make sure everything he was packing up had its lid on tight and could be stored properly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The washcloth was effective, the sequins falling onto the plastic around Die’s feet without much resistance, and Die focused on that for a couple minutes before saying, “Did you just stay to show me this…? Or—I mean, you know, there are other staff members whose duties include cleanup.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo turned towards him, pushed pale lilac bangs back from his face. “No. You said that you wanted to talk to me. I had to wait until the job was finished, but… I stayed, so we could talk. If you still want to.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That wasn't what Die had expected, and he almost lost his grasp on the washcloth, just catching the end of it before it slipped from his hand. “Oh, you—now? Okay.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was fully facing him now, leaning against the makeup counter with his arms crossed defensively—no, <em>protectively</em>—over his chest. “What did you want to say?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, it’s—it’s complicated,” Die said, unsure of where to start. He twisted the washcloth in his hands, water dribbling down onto the sea of sequins at his feet. Most of the decorations had come off already, only some stubbornly sticking around his temples and collarbone. “It’s—I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more, while I was traveling.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I understand, you were busy.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded, still looking down at the cloth in his hands. His fingers were already going pruny again. “My manager was trying to reach me the whole time, too. I finally talked to her when I got back.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is everything okay?” Kyo asked.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was hard to look at him. Die didn’t want to see the concern in his eyes, the <em>hurt</em>, when Die explained the situation that he himself hated so much.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Keeping his eyes lowered, Die said, “They’re not very happy with me over there.” He couldn’t stand to tell Kyo the whole reason, didn’t want him to feel responsible for something that was total bullshit. “They want—I’m not going to be able to take you to—to that awards party I mentioned before…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a long pause before Kyo said, “…I see.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die looked up at him then, but Kyo’s eyes were shuttered and Die couldn’t read his expression. “I <em>want</em> to take you. It’s just—It’s <em>them</em>, they told me—they <em>wanted</em> me to issue a statement, saying—I wouldn’t do that, but—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You don’t have to explain,” Kyo said quietly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No, I do!” Die insisted. "I know, this timing really fucking sucks, when you’re already feeling—after what you told me, before I left for France, I don’t want to make anything worse.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head. “It’s probably better this way.” He pushed off the counter. “There’s someone else you’ll take to the event instead, hm?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… They want me to take a woman, I don’t know who.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Makes sense.” Kyo rubbed at his nose. “Well, thank you for telling me. I. I hope you have a nice time, truly.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s eyebrows drew together. “That’s really not—Kyo, please, hold on a minute.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But Kyo was already walking past him, hefting his bag over his shoulder and then dragging his rolling makeup case away from the wall. “I’ll see you around, Die,” he said, and then he was sweeping out of the room, and Die was stuck standing on his sheet of plastic, for fear of tracking sequins everywhere.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That shouldn’t have stopped him, but it just—nothing had gone as Die had planned. He stayed standing there like a fool. Why had he told it all wrong? He should have led with how hard he’d been working to understand asexuality, or how he was, in no way, willing to comply with his manager’s more outrageous demands. Instead, he’d made it sound like he was no more than a weak puppet, rolling over and taking whatever they threw at him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Maybe he was.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But he didn’t want to be that way. It was up to Die to make it all right; he owed Kyo that much. He just didn’t have a clue what even the first step would be.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry guys, don't hate me &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“And then what?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked over at Toshiya with raised eyebrows. “And then nothing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do you mean, nothing? What else did he say?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s all he said.” Kyo shrugged, looking back down at the coffee cup warming his hands. “And then I left.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But—That’s not enough,” Toshiya argued. “Have you heard from him at all since then?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t really want to hear anything else,” Kyo admitted. “Hearing what I did was kind of bad enough already. He did try to text me a couple times, but I ignored it. I don’t feel like talking.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m pretty sure there’s been some misunderstanding somewhere,” Toshiya said. “You have a bad habit of taking things personally, and you can’t pretend you don’t.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But it is personal,” Kyo said. “He even brought it up himself, what I told him before, about my—stuff.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You guys need to talk this out.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You always say that.” Kyo shook his head. “I’m done talking it out. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I refuse to believe that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t know what he was supposed to say. Toshiya could <em>refuse to believe it</em>, but that didn’t change the facts. Die was going to take some woman to his fancy party, and even if he’d tried to soften the blow by claiming it was his manager’s decision, it was pretty clear to Kyo what was happening. They’d broken up, and it was Kyo’s fault. He’d pushed Die to this extreme action by being honest regarding his feelings about intimacy.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You know, I really didn’t think you were the type to give up this easily,” Toshiya said when Kyo had gone a few minutes without speaking. They were almost to the salon, nearing the last intersection before they reached it, and then their conversation would have to be put on hold so they could focus on the necessary rigamarole of the daily opening procedures.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What would you have me do?” Kyo asked. “I can’t really <em>not</em> give up. If Die doesn’t want to be with me, it’s not right to try to fight him leaving.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “See, I don’t think he ever said he didn’t what to be with you! When did he say that? Or are you not telling me the whole story?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t answer. The truth was that he <em>wasn’t</em> telling Toshiya everything. He hadn’t gone into any great detail about that previous conversation he’d had with Die, he hadn’t talked that much about his own feelings of inadequacy and shame, or how he actually believed that Die would be <em>happier</em> with someone else, because Die deserved better, deserved <em>more</em> than Kyo.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They reached the salon, and Toshiya handed Kyo his coffee so that he could use both hands to unlock the front door. “Okay, what if,” he said, leaning into the door with his hip so he could get the key to turn, “<em>I</em> talked to Die for you? If you’re not up for that kind of communication, I could at least get his side of the story, and better form an opinion as to whether or not you’re being unreasonable.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He tugged the door open and unlocked the padlocked gate behind it, not sparing a glance for Kyo with his hands full of coffee cups.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t see the point in dragging this out,” Kyo said. “It fucking sucks, and—and it hurts, and I just want it to go away.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, no shit it hurts, you love him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He said it so casually, like it was obvious, like Kyo had already said so himself, and for a brief moment, Kyo got his hackles raised over it. Toshiya was just trying to tell him how to feel again, criticizing him for not doing relationships correctly—except he was right. Kyo <em>did</em> love Die, and hearing it stated so simply brought it into an almost painfully sharp focus.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And once again, his recognition of the fact came too late, when Die was putting distance between them, hopefully seeking out something or someone more fulfilling for him than Kyo could hope to be. It didn’t do him much good now.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Once the gate was open, Toshiya flicked on a couple lights and waved Kyo into the salon after him. He stood looking around the space with a serious look on his face. Thus far, he hadn’t made many changes to the decoration or atmosphere of the interior, but Kyo had heard him talk about a few of the things he wanted to do, to give the place a fresher, more natural feeling.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Over the weekend, the walls had been painted, so part of their task in getting there early was moving everything back into position against the walls before the salon’s opening time. Kyo welcomed the busy work. He appreciated Toshiya’s including him in various aspects of the salon’s makeover. Especially when he had so much on his mind, it was nice to feel useful and keep himself distracted.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It took almost thirty minutes for Toshiya to fully drop the subject of Kyo’s turbulent relationship.After offering to talk to Die himself, he suggested going to Shinya, sending a handwritten letter, and even making a visit to a shrine to seek the answers Kyo’s heart needed, at which point Kyo properly lost his patience.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I told you, I don’t want to hear anything else Die could say,” he snapped. “I don’t want his pity or his explanations, or his condescending fucking <em>looks</em>. I already know what made him leave, okay? It was me, and it was the same shit that always ends my relationships, I just thought—I hoped…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d hoped that Die was <em>different</em>. He couldn’t say what had really put the idea in his head; surely, there was no reason to believe Die would act any differently from any other jerk Kyo had dated.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Other than that Die wasn’t a jerk, as had been pointed out time and time again. And Kyo loved him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can we not talk about this anymore?” Kyo said, in a smaller voice than he meant to. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya was a good friend and didn’t press the issue.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Instead he went on a bit about the laborious process of getting everything changed to the salon’s new name, updating the website, acquiring new business cards, placing new advertisements and so forth. He seemed content to just vent about it without expecting Kyo to do more than listen.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And Kyo listened, as much as he was able.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In fact, the salon really hadn’t lost any business, even with the name and management change. Most of the customers had only ever interacted with Toshiya and the team of hairdressers all along, so the new ownership meant nothing to them. It was a lot of behind-the-scenes work, but Kyo could tell, even if Toshiya was complaining, he was happy at the same time.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As the first customers of the day started to come in, Kyo couldn’t tell whether he was relieved or driven into a state of further distress. He didn’t want to deal with any people, that was for sure, but he didn’t mind the sense of peace and satisfaction he got from doing someone’s hair.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was all well and good until his third client of the day, who walked in, took one look at him, and made an audible sound of disgust before marching back to the desk.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo could hear her conversation with Toshiya clearly from back at his work station.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ex<em>cuse</em> me. I need a different hairdresser.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya glanced over his shoulder at Kyo, and back to her. “I’m sorry?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t want <em>him</em> doing my hair,” she said loudly. “So you need to change my appointment to another hairdresser.” She pointed to Masaki, who was prepping his own station. “How about him?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo could tell from the evenness of Toshiya’s tone that he was not pleased. “Suda-san has his own appointments scheduled. I’m afraid he can’t take you right now.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He doesn’t <em>look</em> busy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can reschedule your appointment for another day when Suda-san would be available…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m here <em>now</em>, I’m not going to schedule <em>another</em>—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then you can either have Kyo-san cut your hair, or leave and not come back,” Toshiya cut her off. “Though, he may not want to cut your hair now, with how you’re acting, so I guess we’d have to ask him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The customer made a few vaguely outraged noises and stormed out. No one moved or spoke for a long moment.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Then, Toshiya calmly walked out from behind the front desk, and came over to where Kyo was standing. “Looks like a late cancel.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sorry, I guess I must have scared her off,” Kyo said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya shook his head. “I don’t blame you at all. Not sure what her deal was, honestly. But it’s nice to not have to worry about how some higher-ups might feel about my handling of the situation. Pissy customers can kiss my ass.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was not entirely reassured. “I just don’t want it to become a thing.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What kind of thing? You’re the most popular stylist we have here, whether you like to acknowledge that or not. I don’t think you need to worry about bringing down business.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But Kyo remembered another incident not so long ago, the girl who had spent the entire appointment giving him dirty looks. Then Die leaving him, this new customer refusing to let him near her hair… Kyo liked to say he didn’t care, but his self-esteem had taken a pretty serious hit lately.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’ll still get paid,” Toshiya promised. “I’ll send her a bill for her canceled reservation. After all, you weren’t the one refusing to work, so I see no reason why you should suffer for it.” He adjusted the sunglasses he wore so often these days, whether or not they were indoors. “You—I mean, you didn’t <em>do</em> anything to her, did you?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t think so,” Kyo said uncertainly. “She didn’t even make it to the chair, it was just—me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What were we just saying about taking things personally?” Toshiya chided him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But Kyo couldn’t shake the feeling that it was <em>him</em>. <em>He</em> was the one that was…. <em>repelling</em> people.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s worse now for me to drive away customers, because it has an impact on <em>you</em>,” he said. “I might not have cared before when <em>they</em> owned the salon, but…”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Stop,” Toshiya said. “If I have a problem with your work, I’ll say something to you, but to be completely honest, I think you’ve done more for the salon than just about anyone, and I’d have a hard time letting you go even if you <em>begged</em> me to leave.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s worries were only exacerbated when the next customer came in and gave him another death glare. This time he was <em>sure</em> she was one of Die’s fans, but she was looking at Kyo with clear intent to burn holes through his skull.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She didn’t outright refuse to take an appointment with him, but her attitude didn’t improve, either. Kyo’s confidence was low enough that he didn’t even bother calling her out on it. He figured he could understand more or less what her problem was anyway: Die was finished with Kyo, and so his fans were, too.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It brought the guilt heavier upon him. Toshiya was trusting him to bring in more clients, but without Die’s endorsements, Kyo wasn’t worth much at all. Would Die himself even still come to Kyo to get his hair done, now that things had gone south with them?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t want to worry Toshiya by alerting him to the possibility. Toshiya had enough on his plate, and he already spent too much energy fussing over Kyo and his self-created problems. He made it through the unhappy girl’s whole appointment without losing his temper, and he was cleaning up, trying to remember how to fake a smile when Toshiya came over to his work station yet again.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay, what was <em>that</em> about?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked at him in dismay. “Did she complain?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Should she have?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I didn’t do anything!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya crossed his arms over his chest. “She didn’t complain, but she clearly wasn’t <em>happy</em>. Kyo, is there something going on?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo rubbed a hand over his face. “No, I… I didn’t…” He let out a breath. “I think it’s Die.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya stared, clearly not following.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That last girl—she was a Die fan, she had the red snake-print phone case, like his tattoo,” Kyo explained. “And this isn’t the first time recently that one of his fans has treated me like shit.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay,” Toshiya said slowly. “But that’s gotta be a coincidence, right? It’s not like he’d have—what, gone out and publicly rallied all his fans to <em>shun</em> you or something.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A memory flickered in Kyo’s mind, of Die saying that his managers wanted him to issue some sort of <em>statement</em>. Was that what had happened? Had he been blacklisted without even knowing about it?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can’t think of any other connection,” Kyo said. “Maybe the walkout was one of his fans, too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This is not a satisfactory explanation for me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If you have an alternate one, I’d love to hear it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya was frowning as he walked back up to the front counter, and Kyo hated that he was bringing such unhappiness upon him. Maybe he would have been better off without Kyo working there. Even though Kyo hated personal drama, he couldn’t deny that it seemed to follow him like some sort of curse. When could he get some damn <em>peace</em> in his life?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo's last two appointments of the day were pretty uneventful, but he hardly noticed enough to count that as peace. Everything was already fucked as far as he was concerned, and no amount of nothingness could redeem it. For the first time in years, Kyo was seriously considering asking to take some time off from work. He didn’t think he could handle the continuing animosity from his clients, not when he was busy recovering from a broken heart.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But where would he go?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Fantasies of Hawaii—clear blue water and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts—drifted tauntingly through his mind, only for him to realize a beat too late that Die was beside him in all those fantasies, smiling in the sunshine, or lying across his lap and sharing chocolates. Kyo’s heart cracked a little more.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even Masaki was concerned, and came over to speak to Kyo on his way out of the salon.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "The customers were giving you a lot of trouble today, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s complicated. If you feel like taking on some extra clients, you’re welcome to a few of mine.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Masaki wrinkled his nose. "Don't think most of 'em would be too happy about that."</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "You'd be surprised," Kyo said. He slumped down in his chair, dangled one leg over the arm.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Masaki paused, then took a step closer. "I don't have your talent for this stuff. That’s not an invitation to argue, I just mean, for you, it’s an art. For me, it’s a job. On the other hand, I’m fairly certain I’m better at reading people than you are.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo couldn’t disagree with that.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Every time Die has come in here, he’s looked at you with… wonder," Masaki went on. “He's a pro in his world, no question, but if you think there’s <em>anything</em> you could do to drive him away, there’s just… I don’t know, maybe you need a wakeup call or something.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What kind of wakeup call?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Masaki shrugged. "Slap in the face maybe? Bucket of ice water over your head? I don't personally feel we have a close enough relationship for me to offer that service, but I hope someone does. Die’s crazy about you, always has been, and if you can’t see that, you're just being stubborn." He walked off, and Kyo watched him go, staring up towards the front of the salon for a few long minutes before he was jarred out of his trance by Toshiya's voice calling him.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think you should see this!" he said, sounding surprisingly urgent.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo couldn't tell what he was looking at. He dragged himself out of his chair and up to the front desk to see what all the fuss was about.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya was scrolling on his phone with an intense sort of look on his face, but before Kyo could ask what was wrong, those wild eyes were turned on him. "I think I’ve solved the mystery of why all these customers—Die’s <em>fans—</em>are treating you strangely.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He turned the phone for Kyo to see what appeared to be some tabloid site, featuring photo after photo of—<em>Kyo</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Wait, what?” Kyo snatched the phone, his brow creasing in confusion. “What is this?” He scrolled down and found easily a dozen pictures of himself, in various public places, usually with Die at his side.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die is a famous model,” Toshiya said, like Kyo didn't know that. “You’ve attracted attention, spending so much time with him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s eyes were fixed on one photo, taken from behind, where Die was leaning close to whisper in Kyo’s ear, his hand resting low on Kyo’s back. He knew exactly where they were in the shot; it was from a few weeks back, they’d just left an exhibit on classic horror films, and half a smile was visible on Die’s turned face as he made some private comment about the quality of the special effects makeup in those old B-movies. Seeing such an intimate moment displayed on the internet for anyone’s viewing felt weird and wrong, made Kyo’s stomach churn.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He shook his head. “I… I don’t understand. I’m nobody. Why? Why does anyone care?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re <em>Die’s boyfriend</em>,” Toshiya countered, exasperation heavy in his voice. “It’s not hard for anyone to see what’s going on between you based on these pictures.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had never even thought about it. When he’d first begun his friendship with Die, he’d made a point to worry about Die’s privacy, but Die himself had never shown much concern for it, and by the time they were dating, it had basically dropped from Kyo’s mind. Were they supposed to be keeping their relationship a secret? They’d never talked about “going public” with it, but Kyo hadn’t realized they needed to talk about hiding that kind of thing.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Suddenly everything going on recently made more sense. Die’s fans, who had perviously seen Kyo just as his hairdresser, had evidence that there was more to their relationship, and were reacting with jealousy. Even if it was unrealistic for these fans to have any investment in Die’s status as a single man, it wasn’t uncommon for people to feel some misguided entitlement to their favorite celebrities’ private lives.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And then Kyo applied this new information to what Die had told him, too. He’d said his management company wasn’t happy with him. At the time, Kyo had interpreted that as some pathetic attempt to not take responsibility for the pain Die was causing him, but with this new context...</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo really had made problems for Die, just not in quite the way he’d thought. But if these photos of them together were all over the internet, it could be causing Die serious professional trouble.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This is bad," Kyo said out loud.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I'd say this is the missing piece from your ‘breakup’ conversation with Die,” Toshiya said. “You need to reach out to him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked at Toshiya in disbelief. “Are you kidding? I need to leave him alone! I don’t want to make things any worse!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “This isn't your fault,” Toshiya said. “You’re not the only person in these pictures.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can’t be responsible for damage done to Die’s <em>career</em>,” Kyo said.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die’s a grown man,” Toshiya said. “Being out is complicated, yes, and it’s up to him how he handles that, especially as someone in the public eye. But it’s his decision. His manager demanding that he escort a woman to whatever his major upcoming event is doesn’t mean that Die doesn’t <em>want</em> to take you, or want to <em>be</em> with you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked again at the photo on Toshiya’s phone, the upward curve of Die’s mouth as he spoke into Kyo’s ear. He wanted to be the source of that quiet happiness, but wouldn’t it just be another demonstration of selfishness, to ask Die to risk his livelihood in order for them to share these moments?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You love him,” Toshiya stated again, so much more easily than Kyo could. “Are you willing to work with him, to have a relationship where he can be with you and feel safe?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Obviously Kyo couldn’t say <em>no</em>, but he didn’t see how it would work. He didn’t want to make things more complicated for Die. Loving him meant he was willing to let him go if that was what he needed.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Still, there was some relief in knowing the whole story. He could let Die go and know it was to <em>protect</em> him. He could take care of Die, even as he kept his distance from him. Hopefully Die could know too, what an act of love it was.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If all updates go according to plan, this fic should be finished by the end of the week! <br/>Kind of hard to believe.<br/>Of course, I'll have more things to post, but I will most likely return to a regular 1-2 updates per week schedule once this story is over. <br/>But anyway, it's not quite over yet! Enjoy~!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Shinya seemed neither surprised nor especially pleased to see Die when he showed up at his apartment unannounced one morning. He just let him in, leading him back to the room where his computer was set up, and sat down at his desk, apparently content to welcomingly ignore his presence.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "I didn't mean to interrupt,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re fine,” Shinya said without looking at him. He put one earbud in and waved a hand. “You can have a seat. I'm just in the middle of editing, but I can still listen, since I assume you want to talk?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a low couch against the wall, and Die went and lay down on it, feeling a bit like someone talking to a therapist in a movie. “There’s just so much... and it’s all gone so wrong.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mm.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Do you feel like our friendship is entirely centered around me burdening you with my problems?" Die asked guiltily.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not really,” Shinya said. “I know if I had something I needed to get off my chest you’d listen to me, too. And you’ve always been supportive of my channel.” He glanced over his shoulder at Die. “To be honest, I thought you’d call me for a chat sooner. Kyo talked to me, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sat up. “Wait, <em>Kyo</em> did? When was that??”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I never mentioned? How strange,” Shinya said, and turned back to his screen. “Well, I suppose if I’d heard from you <em>at all</em> since getting back from Paris, it would have come up…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die winced. Normally he might have turned it back around, made it into a joke—<em>aw, Shin, I didn’t know you’d miss me so much!</em>—but in this case he knew how he’d been deliberately avoiding his friend, and no amount of teasing would let him worm his way out of that one. Instead he asked, “What did he say?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It was while you were abroad,” Shinya said. “He seemed… I don’t want to insert myself too much into your business, but he wasn’t his usual sunshine-y self. I know he was worried about what the two of you had discussed before you left.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “About—did he seem to… want to be away from me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No,” Shinya said. “I think he wants to make it work. Don’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sighed. “It’s just so complicated. Everything is happening all at once—there’s all this bullshit with my management company, you know how they are.” He squirmed around on the couch again, still unable to get comfortable. “I told Kyo I would be taking him to the awards ceremony, I was so <em>excited</em> about it, and then I had to back out, cause Nakamura wants me to take some woman instead. He must think I’m such an asshole.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya made a thoughtful noise, clicking a few things around on his computer. “You know Kyo better than I do, but… I somehow doubt that he’s the type to put so much value on a <em>party</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Maybe not, but it was important to <em>me</em>,” Die said. “And anyway, it’s not just that, it’s—also he’s <em>ace</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So I’d gathered."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And I want—I want to be okay with it. It doesn’t change how I feel about <em>him</em>, but I guess, I just don’t understand.” Die curled the end of a stand of hair absently around his finger. “There were times when it seemed like—He told me, when he was—<em>alone</em>, he thought about things, about <em>us</em>, doesn’t that <em>mean</em> something?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At that Shinya paused in what he was doing to turn and give Die a look. “You’re talking about his private fantasies? I’m afraid they don’t mean much. Do you know how common rape fantasies are? But they don’t mean anyone actually <em>wants</em> to get raped.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was not a fan of this comparison, but he got Shinya’s point. “Still, he’s said himself, he enjoys some parts of sex, even if—not in the way I do.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then maybe he does,” Shinya said. “You might have to feel that out on a case by case basis, talk about <em>how much</em> he’s okay with. With <em>him</em>, not with me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t ever want to make him feel pressured,” Die said. “At all.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sure he doesn’t want that either.” Shinya looked back at his computer. “Your relationship’s communication department could definitely use some improvement.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know,” Die said, all too aware of that fact himself. He wrung his hands, looked down at them. “But. But I want to put the work in, and find out what he’s comfortable with, and…” He thought of Kyo, shrinking away from him, of his small, hesitant voice. “And make sure he feels safe with me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That all sounds good,” Shinya said. “I just think it’s important that you tell him, and show him, that you’re willing to commit to that, that you won’t lose your patience and end up looking elsewhere.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s head snapped up. “<em>What</em>? Looking elsewhere, what are you talking about?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “When I talked to him, it seemed like this was a major, not-unreasonable, concern of his,” Shinya said. “That you would feel he can’t <em>provide</em> what you need, and would seek fulfillment from someone else.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Shit,” Die said. “<em>Shit</em>.” He remembered Kyo saying something to that effect when they’d talked, too, that Die “would probably rather be with someone else,” but he’d taken it as something more hypothetical, not something that Kyo was literally worried about from Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But why wouldn’t he worry about that? Even Die had been upfront about his own sluttiness, his habit of seeking contact and physical comfort from the models with whom he worked. And what reason had Die ever given Kyo to trust him?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What did you tell him?” he asked Shinya worriedly. “You didn’t say that I would…?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No,” Shinya said. “I assured him that you were loyal. I hope I was right.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “God, yes, I would never—” Die stopped, realizing just how much worse everything was than he thought. “Fuck, but my manager…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “To the untrained ear, it might sound like you’re carrying on an affair with your manager,” Shinya said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Cut it out, you know what I mean,” Die said. “The <em>stupid</em> Trend Awards, fucking… Kyo’s already worried about me <em>straying</em>, and I told him I was going to be taking someone else to the event. What’s he gonna think??”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re sure you can’t change your manager’s mind?” Shinya asked. “Maybe if you explained the situation, she would be sympathetic.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nakamura? Not fucking likely,” Die grumbled. “In fact, I’m supposed to meet with whoever it is she’s set me up to take today, for lunch.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then what about explaining to Kyo? I assume you already tried that?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die sighed. He <em>had</em> tried, but he’d screwed it up so badly, and since then… “We haven’t really gotten a chance to talk, since I first told him.” He didn’t go into how he’d <em>tried</em> to reach Kyo several times since then with no success. Really, he didn’t think Kyo needed any more pressure from him at the moment. He could wait until Kyo felt like talking.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I won’t lie to you,” Shinya said, pausing to look at him again. “It’s a difficult situation. Ans you won’t solve it with inaction.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. He couldn’t just hope that everything worked out when there was so much at stake. He checked the time on his phone. It wasn’t long till he had to have his lunch meeting.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He thanked Shinya as always for his advice, and for listening, and headed out, hoping that somehow the lunch date wouldn’t really be as painful as he was afraid it would be.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was just no way for Die to worm his way out of the meeting once Nakamura had arranged it. Her <em>suggestion</em> that he take a woman to the Trend Awards was less a one of those, and more a <em>warning</em> of what could happen to him if he failed to comply.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So, he sat there in the high-end restaurant where he would be having lunch with whatever model or actress they had picked out for him, and tried yet again to justify the whole thing to himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was just work. People did things for their jobs that they didn’t agree with every day. Having lunch with this woman, taking her to a fancy party—It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t a betrayal of Kyo, because she didn’t mean anything to Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even thinking the words hurt. Of course it was a betrayal. Kyo was committed to him, had shared incredibly personal things with him, and Die was willing to toss that aside just for the sake of his image?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> No, he had to remind himself, he wasn’t <em>tossing</em> anything aside. Kyo still wasn’t responding to his texts, but Die hadn’t given up. He was sure they could make things work, if Kyo would just hear him out.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To his surprise, when his “date” walked in, she was actually someone he knew—a model he’d worked with before, and this time, he remembered her name before she could reintroduce herself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Takagawa-san!” He stood to shake her hand. “It’s been a while, I didn’t know you were the person I was meeting."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She smiled widely, and pulled him in for a hug. “Given the situation, I think you’d better call me Mizue,” she said into his ear, then pulled back and took her seat. “We are meant to be dating, after all, isn’t that right, sweetheart?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die bristled, immediately uncomfortable with the ease with which she slipped into the role. He needed to be very upfront about where he stood on the matter.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Look,” he said, “Mizue, um. I appreciate your meeting with me, but I’m not—we won’t be <em>dating</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, I know,” she said dismissively. Then in a conspiratorial whisper, “Don’t worry, it’s not my first time as a beard.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die blinked at her. “That’s—not what this is.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Mizue shook her head, still smiling. “Nakamura explained everything to me, you don’t have to make excuses.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then maybe she didn’t explain it very well,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It was quite the revelation, actually,” she said. “I’d always kind of wondered why you turned me down after our shoot together.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s not why,” Die said. “I’m not gay, I just wasn’t—interested, I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Mizue gave him a look like she didn’t buy that. “If that were true, then why would you need your <em>manager</em> to find a woman for you to take to the Trend Awards?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t,” Die said. “I wasn’t <em>looking</em> for a woman at all. I’m seeing someone, I didn’t even—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But you’re seeing a <em>man</em>,” Mizue interrupted, her eyes narrowed. “Isn’t that why you needed a female date?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die let out a huff of frustration. What kind of backwards time were they living in? According to Nakamura, the issue had never even been that Kyo was a man, just that Die was dating him monogamously. Maybe that had been a lie, and the entire issue had been with his bisexuality after all.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Mizue,” he said again, more firmly, in hopes that she really listened to him, “it was very decent of you to take time out of your schedule for this lunch, but… I don’t think this will really work. I’m not comfortable with… and I don’t want you to think I’m leading you on or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She laughed, a tinkling sort of sound, like something shattering. “I wouldn’t think <em>that</em>, silly goose! A few appearances here and there, a few lingering touches…” She rested her hand over his on the table for emphasis. “I promise not to get too attached.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was too polite a person to storm out of the restaurant. He stayed, ate lunch with her, made idle conversation, and felt keenly aware of how he was being watched. This was not going to be sustainable. He pretended to listen to her stories about taking her dog for a walk or getting her nails done, but most of his brainpower was focused on how he would confront Nakamura about all this.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He headed for her office as soon as the lunch was finished. Nakamura would have to understand that this just wasn’t a solution for what she deemed to be a problem. Maybe the whole thing was a kind of misunderstanding. Maybe Shinya was right, and Nakamura would listen to reason if Die just explained himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Really, he didn’t blame Mizue for any of it. Yes, almost everything she’d said had rubbed him the wrong way for one reason or another, but she was only acting on the misleading information she’d been given, and that was hardly her fault. She’d been trying to help, he supposed, in her way. It probably boosted her publicity, too, to be seen out and about with Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura was busy taking a call when Die arrived, and he sat waiting outside her office somewhat anxiously. He was no longer trying to justify what she wanted him to do. He opened his text conversation with Kyo, and scrolled sadly through it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo hadn’t responded to any message Die had sent in over a week, not since the last time they’d spoken in person, which had obviously gone abysmally. How long could Die really hold out hope that Kyo would speak to him again, would still want to <em>be</em> with him?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was so much Die wished he’d done differently. He knew it wasn’t exactly productive to mope around, stewing in his regrets, but when it came to Kyo, there was just so much that he could have done better. Kyo <em>deserved</em> so much better than Die had given him, andhe just couldn’t give up until he’d made things right.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He had considered just going to Kyo’s apartment directly, or dropping by the salon, but after everything that had happened, the very thought of putting pressure on him made Die nearly sick to his stomach. He could give Kyo space. He just wished he could have explained everything properly from the beginning.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> If nothing else, at least Die could take some comfort in the knowledge that Kyo hadn’t joyfully moved on from him. From what Shinya had said, Kyo had been insecure and out of sorts while Die had been away in Paris, and while he in no way <em>wanted</em> Kyo to be insecure or hurting, it was a relief to know that he didn’t consider their different needs intimacy-wise to be irreconcilable. Then again, Die didn’t know how that might have changed, since everything coming down from his management company.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d been tempted to ask yet another favor of Shinya, to send him in for reconnaissance; since Kyo had apparently opened up to him somewhat before, it was possible that he’d offer some clue as to what he was thinking now, and Die felt he needed that clue desperately. But he knew in his heart of hearts that the time had long since passed for anything so indirect.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Just then, Nakamura poked her head out of her office. “Die? Come on in.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She didn’t look totally shocked to see him, although they hadn’t had any appointment scheduled. Die wondered what result she was expecting from his lunch date with Takagawa.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die closed the office door behind himself, and Nakamura gestured for him to sit, as she always did, in the too-expensive-to-be-comfortable, peach and gold chair in front of her wide, glass-topped desk.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Tea?” she offered, already pouring him a cup.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He took it with a polite “thank you,” and held it in his hands while he waited for her full attention.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So,” she said, finally, folding her hands on the desk in front of her, “you had lunch with Mizue-san earlier, yes? I take it you’re here to report on that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Sort of,” Die said. “But more—I’m not sure…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Is she not a good match?” Nakamura waved a hand. “It doesn’t matter, of course. This isn’t an engagement or anything. You two were previously acquainted?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We were,” Die said slowly. “That is, we shot an ad together a while back, but we were never—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, I know,” Nakamura said. “There was a great deal of speculation from your fans, though. Your chemistry in that ad campaign was so <em>intense</em>, I think many people enjoyed the idea that you might have more than a mere working relationship.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die frowned. “Okay, but it wasn’t true. Is—is that why you chose her to be—for me to take to the Trend Awards?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura looked at him like he was stupid. “Well, yes. We wanted to choose someone who would be the most beneficial for your career. Because of the tension between you two, rumors and fan theories will generate the right kind of publicity—hopefully enough to put this other more <em>unfortunate</em> matter from their minds—and it’s a win-win for both of you!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t want people to think we’re a couple,” Die said. “Not only is it dishonest, but it’s starting to feel like you want me with a <em>woman</em>, so I’ll appear more… <em>straight</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura snorted. “I’m sure I told you before, none of us here at Free-Sun have any interest in your personal attractions. We just want the most possible success for you as a modeling professional.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Takagawa made a few comments that I wasn’t altogether comfortable with,” Die admitted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura looked confused. “Who cares? She’s just one in a rotation of high-status individuals we’ve lined up for you. Next week it’s another girl—an actress this time. She might be sort of young for you, but that should just get people talking about it more.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die couldn’t keep the disgust from showing on his face. The company had arranged some kind of <em>harem</em> for him? How the hell was that better? “How many women have you dragged into this?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura pursed her lips, thinking about it. “Four or five. If you’re really upset about it, we can definitely throw a male model into the mix. How about someone foreign? Or a musician, perhaps?” </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die set his tea on a coaster on the desk. “That’s really not the issue. Do you not see how this is… weird, and inappropriate?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s inappropriate for us to protect our investments?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess that’s the only way you can think of me, huh?” Die shook his head. “I hate to have to remind you, but I am actually a <em>human being</em>.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura looked at him seriously for a long moment, then leaned forward. “Believe me, Die, I am well aware. And as a human, you’ve made some <em>mistakes</em>, actions that are in violation of your contract, and that could potentially cost the company a shit-ton of money. Unfortunately, it is my job to clean up after your carelessness, and I am trying to do that in the most painless way I can.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die wanted to argue, to point out that there was nothing painless about what they were putting him through, but he could tell from the dangerous arch of Nakamura’s eyebrows that she wasn’t finished telling him off.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "This isn’t some kind of punishment,” she went on. “You want to think you're a victim, a martyr, but we all have a business to run here, and we can’t all suffer just because you’ve got a hard-on for some tattooed thug.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Don’t talk about Kyo like that,” Die said quietly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura ignored him. “I actually like you. But I’ve wasted too much time, <em>defending</em> you to my superiors, only to have you disrespect me this way. Do you have no concept of the trouble I've gone to for you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not like I’ve asked you to,” Die said, more petulantly than he meant to. “I don’t <em>need</em> a parade of women to be seen with for one night apiece. You never even consulted me about how <em>I</em> wanted to handle this. Did it occur to you that I might not <em>want</em> to have this—this manufactured playboy image you’ve come up with?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura laughed at that, something distinctly unkind, her hands planted menacingly on the tabletop. “<em>Manufactured</em>? Die, my darling, you can’t pin that image on <em>us</em>. You created it yourself, by forging your reputation across the sheets of every other damn model you come in contact with. Maybe if you could keep it in your pants for five minutes, that wouldn’t be the name you’ve made for yourself.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s cheeks burned and his stomach rolled. There was some truth in what she said, and he hated that, hated that he couldn’t deny it. He’d dug this hole for himself, and getting out of it was unlikely to be all that simple.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then I want to make a new image,” Die said, his fists clenched, like that might keep his voice from shaking. “I don’t want to be—I want to show that I’ve changed.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s too late for that,” Nakamura said. “This is the product that we’re selling.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not a <em>product</em>,” Die said, “and I’m not incapable of change just because it’s outside your-your <em>sales estimates</em>. I’m not going to date a series of strangers just for the publicity. I’m going to be loyal to the man I love, and if you have a problem with it, then I can find representation with another company.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura’s eyes turned cold, and then she stood, slowly, her hands still on the desk. “All right, let me explain this in language simple enough for your high school dropout, alcohol-soaked brain to understand. Here’s what’s going to happen: You’re going to take Takagawa-san to the event this weekend. You are going to stay with her the whole evening, you are going to smile in the <em>numerous</em> photos taken. You are going to make a <em>public announcement</em> that you and that Nobody boytoy of yours are <em>just friends</em>, and formally shut down rumors that suggest otherwise.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She was standing at full height now, a tall, imposing woman, looming over Die, 100% a threat. Die fought to maintain eye contact.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If you fail to do as you’re told, you <em>will</em> be dropped from the company, and the fallout will not be pretty.” At that, she smiled, sweet and frighteningly insincere. “I hope you understand, this all comes from powers above me. I’d be <em>happy</em> to let you drift around, banging every makeup girl and wardrobe boy you set your sights on—but! My hands are tied. Now. Are we clear?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was staring at his teacup. Steam had long since stopped issuing from it, but it sat, full and pristine on the heavy glass tabletop.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Nakamura walked around the desk, past him, and stood holding her office door open. “It was such a pleasure chatting with you, Die-san. Be sure and have fun at the Trend Awards on Saturday, won’t you?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Kyo</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We're almost there you guyyyys~&lt;3&lt;3&lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t easy to let Die go. Kyo knew it was what he had to do, but that didn’t stop him from trying to think his way out of it at a near constant. He missed Die, and worried about him, and wondered what he was doing. In his dramatic moments, he wondered whether his sacrifice meant as much as he hoped it did.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was relieved to have a lighter workload on Saturday. There had been only a few more difficult clients in the past week, but they took a surprising toll on him, and he was having more difficulty ignoring them than usual.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Actually, even the clients who didn’t seem to hate him hadn’t been entirely stress-free. He'd been caught off-guard when Kaoru showed up on Friday, strolling in while Kyo was up at the front counter with Toshiya, looking at potential new furniture for the waiting area on his tablet.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya had spotted him first, glancing up from the tablet at the sound of the door opening. “Good afternoon! Were you hoping to—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kaoru! What are you doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do people usually come in for?" Kaoru said with a hint of amusement in his tone.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I'm sorry," Kyo said, “I just didn’t—You’ve never come here before."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die didn't mention that I wanted to make an appointment?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah,” Kyo said awkwardly. “I guess not.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru frowned, but before he could ask any further questions about that, Toshiya cut in brightly, “I'd be happy to schedule you an appointment!” He swiped a few things out of the way on his tablet. "Your name is Kaoru?"</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked at Toshiya curiously. "What do you mean? You know Kaoru.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “The photographer…?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He’s—we all met back at the gala we went to together, you were there,” Kyo insisted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Hmm,” Kaoru interjected, shaking his head. "I don't believe we were introduced.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re joking,” Kyo said. From how involved Toshiya had been in everything that had happened, it was bizarre to think he didn’t <em>know</em> Kaoru. “I’m sorry, Kaoru, this is Toshiya, he owns the salon.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru smiled, gave a polite little bow. “Pleased to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya was just staring back at him, his cheeks tinted slightly pink. After a moment he said, “That’s—Yes. I’m also pleased.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru took a step closer to the counter. “I’m sorry it took us so long to be introduced. Any friend of Kyo’s is someone I’d like to know better.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> This was news to Kyo, but since he didn’t have all that many friends, he figured it wasn’t as exaggerated a statement as it seemed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Toshiya said, smiling in a strange, almost-shy manner. “All good things.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru had chuckled then, and Kyo had started to feel weird, like he was intruding on some kind of moment, and gone back to his own station. He didn’t need to be there for Kaoru to schedule an appointment anyway.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The appointment had been scheduled for the following week, so Kyo had been able to give his attention on Saturday to his handful of other customers, but, without anything scheduled in the afternoon, he was glad to leave the salon early.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Toshiya had given him strict instructions to rest over the weekend, both physically and mentally. He was profoundly aware of the strain Kyo was under, and with all his own stress dealing with changes made to the salon, he couldn’t afford to have his best hairdresser benched.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The thought was helpful to Kyo, in a way. He couldn’t be bothered to break out of his funk for his own sake, but the knowledge that Toshiya needed him to pull himself together served as a better motivation. He wanted to be able to do whatever Toshiya needed him to do.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So he was relaxing—or at least moping—at home, organizing his travel makeup case, when he got a text from Toshiya.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[Toto]: </b><em>Hey are u home rn?</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo eyed the message in confusion. He’d only left the salon a couple hours ago, and Toshiya had known he was headed straight home.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[</b></span>
  <span class="s2">
    <b>京</b>
  </span>
  <span class="s1">
    <b>]: </b>
    <em>Yeah? Why do you ask?</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> <b>[Toto]: </b><em>Just wondering.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That wasn’t very believable, but Kyo didn’t feel all that curious as to Toshiya’s real reason for asking. He wasn’t going to fall into another one of his traps, asking him something just because Toshiya tricked him into it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Anyway, he got his answer about twenty minutes later when there was a knock at his front door.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo went to answer the door with mild concern; what could have happened that would prompt Toshiya to leave the salon earlier than planned and then come straight to Kyo’s home? Was there some issue with the old owners, or an unruly customer?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Except, standing there in the hallway was not Toshiya at all. It was Die.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t know what to say. He was just staring at Die, at the garment bag he had slung over one arm. The confused noise that came out of him was not quite human speech.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can I come in?” Die asked, too calm for all the buzzing question marks rattling around in Kyo’s brain.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo just stepped aside to let Die in, and hoped he would find out what was gong on in the very near future.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Sure enough, Die wasted no time in announcing, “Unless you’ve made other plans for the evening, I’m taking you to the Trend Awards tonight, and I brought a suit for you, in case you don’t have anything to wear.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked down at himself. He’d already dressed down, and was wearing a pair of track pants and a baggy band t-shirt. he hadn’t been planning on leaving the house again today.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die held out the garment bag. “It should fit. I had it tailored to your measurements.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Tentatively Kyo took the hanger from him, unzipped the bag to find a sleek Gucci suit in an understated blue. It was quite possibly the most expensive item of clothing Kyo had ever held.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He looked back to Die in some confusion, and realized that he was dressed up, too, his suit a little flashier, featuring a pattern of embroidered snakes, a red silk vest just visible beneath the well-fitting jacket.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You mean now?” Kyo said when he found his voice.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shook back his sleeve to check his watch. “We have a little over an hour before we need to leave—which is good, because, heh,” he smiled sheepishly, “I was hoping you could do my hair.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo still felt totally lost and whatever was happening wasn’t making any sense, but there was no arguing with Die; not when he was wearing such a nice suit and speaking with such certainty and confidence about what was going to happen.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> So Kyo cleaned himself up, styled Die’s hair, got dressed, all in a kind of haze. Everything would eventually make sense, he told himself, and he just needed to make it to that point. Someone would tell him why this was happening.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> However, once they were both styled and made-up, and Die was ushering them out to the hired car that would take them to the event, Kyo still had basically no information, and finally had to do something about it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Grabbing both of Die’s hands before he could reach for the car door, Kyo looked Die right in the eyes. “What is happening right now?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Concern flickered over Die’s features. “What do you mean? I told you, we’re going to—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know, the Trend Awards, you said, but… But why? I mean, I haven’t seen you in weeks, and the last time we spoke, you said… You were pretty clear, that you were going to be taking someone else as your date? What am I doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die looked around anxiously, like he expected some threat to emerge from nearby. He squeezed Kyo’s hands in his. “I don’t <em>want</em> to take anyone else as my date.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I know about—Toshiya showed me the pictures of us online,” Kyo said quietly. “You don’t have to pretend there’s no problem, I know your fans are pissed.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die pressed his lips together, nodded. “I don’t care.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo gave him a skeptical look. “You said your manager was upset with you, too, right? That’s ‘cause of me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>No</em>,” Die said firmly. “I don’t care, okay? I love you. I have, for a long time, and I wish I’d told you sooner, I wish I’d told you a <em>lot</em> of things sooner. But I want to take you tonight as my date. It’s what <em>I</em> want, and so, as long as you’re willing, it’s what I’m going to do, managers be damned. This is important to me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was something terribly earnest in Die’s face, and Kyo just couldn’t understand it. Die loved him? What did that solve? There was too much at stake to make decisions like this without serious consideration. “But—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can we please just get in the car?” Die said, sounding a little helpless.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo relented, and they were on their way. He thought maybe once they were in the car and headed to the event they’d keep talking, that he’d get the whole story, but as it happened, Die went quiet. He held Kyo’s hand like he couldn’t let go, but rather than talk, he just stared out the tinted window at the city rushing past, pensive.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And maybe Kyo could have driven the conversation, voiced his countless questions and found out what was going on in Die’s head, but it felt wrong to break the silence. He looked down at his and Die’s linked hands. Die was holding just a little bit too tight, but Kyo wouldn’t have pulled away from him for the world.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He stroked his thumb over the back of Die’s hand, the tattoo there. Only a couple hours ago, he’d been sure that things between him and Die were over, that he’d had to accept making this sacrifice, because Die’s career came first. Now letting go of him, even physically, seemed impossible.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was a quiet joy in his heart, fighting to get out, but Kyo was still apprehensive. Was Die just going to land himself in deeper trouble with this stunt? His taking Kyo still didn’t seem to have been sanctioned by his management company, and there could be serious repercussions for his going against them so deliberately. Kyo wasn’t worth that, and sure Die couldn’t be so misguided as to think he was. If he really was, Kyo didn’t want to be the one to set him straight. If he kept quiet, maybe Die wouldn’t notice how worthless Kyo was, and wouldn’t pull away from him again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> But then, Die, for his part, didn’t seem all that happy either. His mouth was set in a grim line, and he still hadn’t said more than a few words since they’d started driving. Maybe he was already regretting his own recklessness.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was so busy thinking and watching Die that he had been paying very little attention to their travel progress, and was taken by surprise when the driver finally pulled up at a large, glamorous venue, swarming with lights and cameras and so damn many people. He didn’t want to get out of the car.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die spoke to the driver, made arrangements for a pickup time, all without relinquishing Kyo’s hand. Kyo wasn’t really listening, more focused on the chaos of their surroundings and the tethering feeling of Die’s hand in his.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They had to let go of each other as they exited the car, but an instant later, Die was close again, almost recreating that most incriminating of photos that Kyo had seen online, his hand steady and warm on Kyo’s lower back as he leaned in to speak quietly to him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know how this is going to go, so… be prepared for anything, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What do you mean?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I might… face some consequences, for going against my manager’s explicit instructions,” Die admitted. He pulled back enough to meet Kyo’s eyes. “I don’t really give a damn what happens to me, but you shouldn’t have have to put up with their bullshit, and I want you to know, I’ll do anything in my power to protect you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wasn’t sure how to respond to something so overdramatic. Die was probably exaggerating, right? He himself had thought Die might face some consequences, but it was just a <em>party</em>; what kind of wrath was he expecting to come crashing down on them?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That skepticism met with some conflict when they got closer to the crowds and Kyo realized just how much attention they were attracting merely walking in together.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He’d known that Die was popular, sure, but somehow he hadn’t been prepared for all eyes to fall on him that way. He’d assumed that, if anything, he would be even more invisible than usual, with Die there to ogle right beside him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Instead, every photographer they passed was frantically snapping pictures of the two of them, and loud whispers were hissing along either side of them, passing rumors that Kyo couldn’t fully hear—not that he wanted to.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Compared to the gala he’d attended with Toshiya, Kyo felt both less and more out of place here. On this occasion, he was an official guest, the +1 beside Die’s name, invited, accompanied, and dressed by an industry professional. As long as Die wanted him there, he belonged, and Die had, if nothing else, made it clear that Kyo’s presence was desired.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was Kyo's first time going to any event like this as Die's date, and Die wasn't being terribly subtle about what Kyo was to him. He wasn't ashamed to show him off, to guide him through the crowd with an oddly intimate touch to his back or shoulder or hip. There was incredible warmth in it without anything more overtly suggestive, and Kyo reveled in the comfort of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Everything felt so obvious in the moment, all Kyo's usual doubts noticeably absent from his mind. He loved Die. He wanted to be at his side just like this, for an age to come; to stand proudly next to him at every such event.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The only trouble really was all the attention on him. Back when he’d been a performer, it had always been his choice to get up onstage, he’d had control over it. These days he preferred to just stay out of the spotlight, but his mere proximity to Die made that an impossibility here. He didn’t know how Die could stand it, the constant stream of people reaching out for him, photographing him, calling his name and begging for his attention. Kyo was overwhelmed after barely thirty minutes of the incessant fawning, and yet Die managed to go to these events on a regular basis as a part of his day job.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It started to get more uncomfortable when Kyo realized some of the people vying for Die’s attention were calling out to <em>him</em>, too. Someone there must have gotten their hands on who he was, and now scattered pleas of his name had him looking around wildly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s hold on him tightened, steadying him. “Easy,” he murmured. “You okay? We don’t have to stay, if it’s too much.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It seemed like funny thing to offer at this point, when they were already in the thick of it all, and Kyo’s identity had to have been widespread in the media coverage. Maybe if Die had given Kyo more of a say in the matter before they ever got in the car, Kyo could have stated that he preferred to keep his privacy. It was a bit late to try to get out of it now.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Was this Die’s only intention all along? Was he just <em>using</em> Kyo as some rebellious act, trying to prove a point, but never sparing a thought for how it might actually impact Kyo himself?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> All the doubt Kyo usually carried with him was back in full force until Kyo was nearly shaking with it. He was confused and overwhelmed, and everything was too bright and too loud. It was getting harder to breathe, but Die still held him, firm and anchoring.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That was almost enough, but Kyo could sure have used an outsider’s perspective. He wished rather unexpectedly that Shinya was there, as he certainly would have known what to make of it all, and could have lent his remarkable calm to the situation.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Shinya wasn’t there, but no sooner had Kyo had the thought than he spotted a different familiar face in the throng.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kyo! Die, over here!” Kaoru was waving at them, in his unruffled way.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The hordes of people around seemed to be nothing at all to Kaoru, and he made his way closer to Die and Kyo while ignoring everyone else. At his side was a man Kyo remembered seeing at both the shoots he’d done with Kaoru, though he’d never had a proper conversation with him. The man shook hands with Die though, apparently very happy to see him, before he was called away and excused himself to greet someone else.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Nice to see you here, Kyo,” Kaoru said. “I didn’t imagine you as one for this type of shindig.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo huffed out a laugh. “Oh, I’m not, I promise.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Just here to provide moral support, then?” Kaoru said, eyeing Die meaningfully.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I guess so,” Kyo said. More quietly he added, “Not sure how I’m doin’ with that so far…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s arm came up around his shoulder. “You’re amazing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You look fantastic in that suit, too,” Kaoru said, with a clinical air. “Have you ever done any modeling?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not as such.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Obviously you’d be pretty nontraditional, but I could see you doing some high fashion work…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s kind of you,” Kyo said awkwardly, “but it’s not my thing. I’m happier with fewer eyes on me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, yes, I can definitely relate,” Kaoru said, and frowned. “Then this really must be an uncomfortable scene for you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shrugged. “A little bit. But as long as it doesn’t become a regular thing, I think I can manage.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It wasn’t the whole truth, since he’d just been thinking how much he would <em>like</em> to be included in this part of Die’s life, but either way, he wasn’t seeking to become a full-fledged member of the fashion industry, much as he appreciated the opportunities Kaoru tried to provide for him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was safety in standing there, speaking with Kaoru, somehow removed from everyone else around them, and Kyo’s nerves started to settle. Fewer people tried to approach them for photos, and those who did were generally scared off by a severe look from Kaoru. The whole party was less chaotic and intimidating when they were stationed with someone so unshakeable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Perhaps Kyo’s mistake was in having this conscious thought, because the next thing he knew, Kaoru was pulling his phone from an inside pocket, frowning down at the screen. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry, Boo wants me to meet someone, but I’ll see you two around, won’t I? You’re staying for the ceremony?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded stiffly. “That’s the plan.” His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, and Kyo could feel the tension where Die’s arm was still around his shoulders. Were they planning on taking off early, after all?</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Basically as soon as Kaoru walked away, Kyo and Die were set upon, left vulnerable.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A woman with unnecessarily exaggerated eyelashes and a microphone pulled up beside Kyo, linking her arm with his as she smiled for a camera crew.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’re here tonight at the Trend Awards, one of the biggest annual events in the fashion industry, and what a star-studded evening it is!” she said with frightening confidence. “Here with me is <em>Die-san</em>, one of the biggest Japanese names in modeling, nominated for <em>two</em> awards tonight, and with <em>four wins</em> already under his belt from previous years.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It took a lot for Kyo not to let the shock show on his face; in all the time they’d talked about this event, Die had never mentioned that he was actually <em>nominated</em> for an award—much less <em>two</em>. No wonder he seemed to be the most popular person there.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die smiled tightly at the woman. “It’s an honor just to be recognized, among so many talented individuals.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Everyone at the Super Fashion channel is rooting for you,” she said. “But my questions just now are for your handsome <em>friend</em> here—Tell me, what’s your name?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s arm wasn’t around Kyo anymore, but his discomfort was still palpable. This was exactly what they were supposed to avoid, being seen together, but they’d been cornered, and Kyo couldn’t see any alternative to answering her question. “I’m Kyo. Nice to meet you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She laughed. “What a <em>charmer</em>. Are you a model, too?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Hesitantly, Kyo shook his head. “I’m—I’m a hair stylist.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ah, of course!” the interviewer said. “You must work with Die-san, is that right?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve had the pleasure of doing his hair for most of this past year, yes,” Kyo answered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So, then, are you here with him tonight in a strictly professional capacity?” she asked through dangerously sharp teeth, and her microphone tilted towards him expectantly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s heart hammered in his chest. Was this some kind of trap? Was the hell was he supposed to say? If it had been just his own reputation on the line, it would have been easy to be straightforward and honest, but this wasn't his world. It was more than just him. He slanted his eyes towards Die, hoping for some kind of signal as to how he should answer, but Die was just staring straight ahead, his expression as blank as Kyo had ever seen it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> His failure to respond was beyond conspicuous, and the interviewer laughed, gave Kyo’s arm a little shake, as if to remind him of her presence. “Aww, don’t get all shy on me now!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I—Yes, I’m sorry,” Kyo said, and swallowed around the dryness in his throat. “Yes, I’m. I did Die’s hair for tonight’s event.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She wrinkled her nose. “Well, that’s not exactly what I asked, is it?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo didn’t see how to escape this. The camera was burning into him, Die was useless at his side, and this terrifying moth-like woman was completely relentless. If only Die had briefed him on how he should respond to this sort of question…</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What I really want to know, <em>Kyo</em>,” she said, “is what <em>exactly</em> is the nature of your relationship with Die?”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Okay this is it~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Die should have expected it. No, he <em>did</em> expect it. He’d known that a place like this would be crawling with spies, depraved people waiting to bring back the sordid details of the evening for their overlords. They were ruthless and they were all around him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> What he’d been less prepared for was their leaping on Kyo, putting him on the spot with the kind of questions <em>Die</em> should have been answering.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was obvious that Kyo was struggling, floundering, scared to say the wrong thing, and all because Die’s manager was dangling his career like a hostage over the ravine, forcing Kyo into the same precarious position Die had refused to accept, making him choose between denying the truth or potentially sacrificing Die’s livelihood.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hadn’t given Kyo sufficient warning, and now Kyo was being made to suffer, just because Die selfishly wanted him there. That wasn’t right. This was <em>his</em> problem, his <em>fight.</em></span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “We’re romantically involved.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Both the interviewer and Kyo turned shocked faces towards Die at the words that had just left his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I beg your pardon?” she said, and held the mic out to him instead of Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I said, Kyo and I are here <em>together</em>. We’re in a committed relationship, actually, and I couldn't be happier to call him my boyfriend.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo was still gaping at him as the mic appeared back in his face.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can you confirm this?” the interviewer asked.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I… I guess, yeah?” Kyo said, pink dusting his cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For emphasis, and because he wanted to, Die tilted Kyo’s chin up and kissed him thoroughly. It wasn’t dirty, but it left no room for misinterpretation, and Kyo kissed back after only a second of astonishment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The interviewer made a few surprised noises, and yes, there was some murmuring from the crowd around them, but Die couldn’t be bothered with any of it. When he pulled away there were unshed tears shining in Kyo’s eyes behind his glasses, and he expected his own were just the same.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He had no regrets. Already his phone was going off, presumably Nakamura, telling him in no uncertain terms that Free-Sun was finished with him. He sent it to voicemail. He’d made his decision, and he would face the consequences at his leisure.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The interviewer had released her hold on Kyo, was trying to divert the camera’s attention elsewhere. She looked rather embarrassed if Die was honest, like she’d never seen that as a possible result for all her pushing and prodding.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>
    <span class="s1">Serves her</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1"> <em>right,</em> Die thought.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was true that even in this day and age, public displays of affection were not terribly common in this part of the world, but that was just another act of defiance Die was willing to show when it came to asserting his love for Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> At the moment, for once in his life, Kyo seemed <em>less</em> defiant than Die. He was still looking at him with wide eyes, maybe like he couldn’t believe what was happening, or maybe like he was just waiting for the other shoe to drop.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That wasn’t what Die wanted. He didn’t like it to be so difficult for Kyo to believe that he loved him, that he was committed to him, that he was <em>proud</em> of their relationship. That should all be stuff Kyo knew with unwavering certainty, and any doubts he had were surely there because of something Die had done wrong.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He would just have to do whatever was necessary to eliminate them.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “C’mon,” Die said quietly, and tugged at Kyo’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Reporters and photographers were more interested in them than ever, waving and calling Die’s name as they wove their way through the masses, but Die ignored them. He’d made his statement for the evening, and wasn’t looking to put Kyo through any further harassment.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Where are we going now?” Kyo wondered, though he wasn’t making any move to slow their progress through the wide, peopled hall.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was a reasonable question. “I have someone to talk to,” Die answered.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Who, exactly?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well. Remember how I told you my management wasn’t happy with me?” Die said over his shoulder, still dragging Kyo through the crowd. “Yeah, so they pretty much gave me an ultimatum, said I had to take this woman they hand-picked as my date tonight, and that I had to shut down any rumors about you and me being a couple. Or else they’d drop me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “<em>What</em>? Shit, are you serious? Then—”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes, I’m reasonably sure that I am… without representation, as of about five minutes ago,” Die said. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What the hell, when you said consequences—Why didn’t you <em>tell</em> me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s not your problem to deal with. Besides, I’m <em>hoping</em> there’s something I can do about it.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They were nearing the bar, and to Die’s relief, he easily spotted the person he was hoping to find. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Kaoru! Glad I found you again!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru looked up at the sound of his name and smiled as he saw them approaching. “Hello, you two! Looking for me already?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Actually, I was looking for your friend, Boo,” Die admitted.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru arched an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re finally considering his offer?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “More like I’m… semi-desperately hoping that it’s still standing.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You…” Kaoru glanced between Die and Kyo. “Did something happen with Free-Sun?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die shrugged. “They’re assholes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Well, yes,” Kaoru said mildly. “Is this new information for you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s just come to a head,” Die said. “Do you think Boo would still be willing to take me on?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo’s hand was on his arm. “Hold on, are you saying you think you could get a new manager already?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> They both looked to Kaoru, who rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I think,” he said, “that he’s been hoping to get his hands on you for a long while. And even if you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble, he’d have to be a fool to not invest in your career.” He jerked his head to one side. “He’s down at the end of the bar, last I saw him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die looked in that direction, and sure enough, Boo was over there, engaged in enthusiastic conversation with a woman Die didn’t recognize, but who had to be another model.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You know, though, switching to a new company won’t make all your problems disappear,” Kaoru said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die felt Kyo shift awkwardly beside him, and could only imagine how guilty or responsible he might feel for the mess Die had gotten himself into, which was bullshit. </span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He thought again of what it had been like to kiss Kyo in front of everyone, how strong and secure and sure of himself he’d felt in that moment. In his line of work, always having to adapt to someone else’s vision, fit someone else’s mold, it wasn’t always easy for Die to pinpoint his “real” identity. When he was kissing Kyo, it was easy. It made sense, he knew who he was, and he was <em>proud</em> of that person. He liked himself more when he was with Kyo, and even if their relationship had created some, well, vocational difficulties for him, he had no doubt in his mind that the benefits outweighed the risks.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He smiled at Kaoru. “That’s okay. I don’t really want my problem to disappear anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Out of the corner of his eye, Die saw the model walking away from her chat with Boo, and knew now was his chance to make his move. With one last nod to Kaoru, and a squeeze of Kyo’s hand, he moved purposefully past drinking and idling people, and approached Boo on his own.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> An easy smile broke out on Boo’s face when Die reached him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Die! Hello again,” he said cheerfully. He gestured to the bar. “Can I order you something to drink?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A little liquid courage couldn’t hurt. “Thank you,” Die said. “I’ll take a whisky neat.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo waved the bartender over and put in the order, then turned towards Die with a considering look. He sipped his own drink slowly, watching him over the rim of his glass, then shrugged one shoulder. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure? I'm sure you must be very busy at an event like this, even before the actual ceremony starts. Your time is valuable, as is mine, and I don’t want to get my hopes up that you’ve finally come around and want me as your manager.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s drink was placed in front of him and he looked at it, picked it up, downed the whole thing, and set the glass back on the bar.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay,” he said. “I want to be totally honest with you here.” He took a breath, but still didn’t manage to make proper eye contact with Boo. “I’m about 95% sure that I was just dropped from my contract with Free-Sun.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo set his drink on the bar.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Not because of the quality of my work,” Die elaborated, "but because of my relationship.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo tilted his head patiently. “The dude you were here with?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die nodded. “Kyo.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’ve seen some pictures surfacing of you two online,” Boo said, scratching at one sideburn. “He works as a makeup artist, isn’t that right? I’ve seen him when I’ve visited Kaoru-kun’s set before.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yes. So, full disclosure, I did—kiss him, and state that he’s my boyfriend, on-camera, just a short while ago. But even prior to that, my manager—ex-manager—had threatened me, because she didn’t want me dating him.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then… you <em>are</em> currently seeking representation.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die licked his lips and faced Boo. “I do good work.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You do,” Boo agreed.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t have a history of scandals,” Die went on, “and before this recent incident, I don’t think I’d ever created any problems for my management company. Media outlets have always praised me for being polite and cooperative. I would like to have your company represent me, if you’re still interested, but I don’t want there to be any surprises either. I’m not going to date other people to cover up or hide my relationship with Kyo, I’m not going to lie about what he is or who I am, just so that someone else feels more comfortable.” He set his jaw, gave a firm shake of his head. “I’m more than willing to keep my private life private, but I’m not going to actively <em>hide</em> the man I love, not going to <em>deny</em> him. So if that’s a problem for you, then I guess it won’t work out.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The words he was speaking were a good deal more confident than anything he was feeling, and Die held his breath as he awaited Boo’s response.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was a long, heavy moment. Boo looked at his glass on the bar, picked it up, swirled it around, set it down again. Then suddenly he burst out laughing, and Die was so startled he jumped.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was even more startled when a second later he was tight in Boo’s embrace.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Of <em>course</em> I’m still interested!” Boo said, pulling back only to clap Die on the back with enough force to knock him forward. “You’ve got <em>balls</em>, and really that only makes me like you more. Fearless <em>and</em> romantic!” He laughed again and thrust out his hand for Die to shake.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die took it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “My office will call you in the morning with contract details and to talk money,” Boo said, “but I’m confident we’ll be able to come to terms everyone is happy with.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> In all honesty, Die hand’t expected this to go so smoothly and was having trouble believing it. “Are… Are you sure?” he asked. “You don’t need to sleep on it, or discuss…?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Are you kidding?” Boo said. “I’ve been after you for <em>years</em>. As far as issues with the press go, having a boyfriend seems pretty damn minor to me, nothing we can’t handle. I look forward to working with you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die let out a shaky laugh, all nerves and adrenaline and relief. “That’s… Thank you. I’ll look forward to it, too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Let me get you another drink,” Boo offered. “To celebrate!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Actually…” Die glanced back over his shoulder to where Kyo was still standing talking to Kaoru, looking ridiculously stunning in his suit, crooked smile on his face as he laughed at something Kaoru said. “I have somewhere else I need to be.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo smirked knowingly. “Not staying for the actual ceremony, then?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die faltered. He had more or less forgotten about the awards ceremony. The night seemed to have lasted a lifetime already without it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Boo’s hand landed on Die’s shoulder, firm and friendly. “I’ve got it. Consider it my first act as your new manager. If you win, I’ll be happy to accept the award on your behalf, thank all the right people for you—namely myself. You go ahead and take off, take care of you and yours.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was incredibly moved. “I think you and I might get to be very good friends.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> "I guarantee it," Boo said. "And you can always pay me back with a bottle of wine—I'm easy."</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Laughing again, Die bowed, thanked Boo, and went back to find his boyfriend, feeling like a huge weight had been lifted off him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He hadn’t felt so free in years. In all that time, he’d never really considered that there was any issue with his management. He’d accepted everything as standard for the industry and never questioned it. But the idea that for once he wouldn’t have to feel like he was sneaking around, that he could love Kyo without someone else above him weighing in on that, was so exciting Die could almost cry.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> There was still damage control to be done, he knew. Getting new representation didn’t mean it would suddenly all be easy, but he was sure he could make it through anything as long as he had Kyo supporting him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He also knew some of that damage control started at home. There were things he needed to say to Kyo, and he couldn’t keep putting it off.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> When he got back to Kyo and Kaoru, they were both looking at him expectantly, quite clearly nervous on his behalf, and Die couldn’t stop himself from throwing his arms around both of them at once.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Neither pushed him away, though Kaoru did make a sort of indignant sound of surprise.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know how to interpret this,” he said, carefully holding his drink off to the side so it wouldn’t spill. “Are we being hugged because you need comfort, or in celebration?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m happy,” Die said, partly muffled by Kyo’s hair. “I care about both of you and I appreciate you.” He gave them one last squeeze and pulled back. “Boo is willing to take me on.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kaoru looked pleased. “Great news. Boo is a longtime friend of mine, and I’m sure you will get on very well.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded. “This is… a huge relief.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And now…” Die held out his hand to Kyo. “I’m about ready to get out of here, if you are.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> That got him a bewildered sort of look. “What about the ceremony? I thought you were…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Boo can handle it if I end up winning,” Die said.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t blame you for sneakin’ out,” Kaoru said. “I was thinking about taking off early too, to be quite honest with you.” He took a sip of his drink. “I might be meeting someone later.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shot him a somewhat disapproving glare, and turned back to Die. The hesitation was clear on his face even before he said, “I don’t want you to leave because of me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not,” Die said. “<em>We’re</em> not. In all seriousness, after everything that’s gone down tonight, I feel like I’m on the verge of a panic attack, and there are other things that I think are more important for me to be doing than sitting around wearing an expensive suit and applauding for people I hardly know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah? Like what?” Kyo asked, plainly wary.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die was tempted to give him some non-answer, to equivocate and evade and get him off his case, but the time for such things was past. Or, really, it should never have come at all. “Can we talk?” he said instead. His hand still hadn’t moved from where he’d offered it to Kyo, although Kyo had yet to take it.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> For a long moment, Kyo just looked at him intently. Then at last he put his hand in Die’s. “I think that’s a good idea.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Even having agreed on that, neither of them tried to start the conversation before they got out of the venue, which was no small relief. It was hard enough for Die to keep up his polite smiles for the press they passed, to avoid being roped into introductions and too-friendly circles of people he half-recognized. He didn’t think he could have handled it if Kyo had tried to delve into the past several weeks as they were walking.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was rather earlier than Die had told the driver to return with the car initially, so he had to place the call for them to be picked up, and then there was nothing to do but wait, and Die was awash with both relief and anxiety as he stood in the silence of <em>waiting</em> with Kyo.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Or, it <em>was</em> silent, until Kyo started laughing.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It was just a snicker at first, but it gradually became something half-hysterical and close to desperate. Die watched him with wide eyes, the humor of the situation quite lost on him.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What the hell is so funny?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo shook his head, still laughing so hard that tears had started forming in his eyes. “You—You’re so—so fucking <em>stupid</em>!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “What were you <em>thinking</em>?” Kyo said. “You had—You told me yourself, you had no idea how things would go, and you went pulling that shit with the cameras—I can’t believe how lucky you got with Boo. There was no guarantee that he’d take you on, you know!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A laugh sputtered out of Die, too. “I know, but—what, would you have preferred for me <em>not</em> to kiss you? Not to tell the truth?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It’s just—it was such a gamble!”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die looked hard at him, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the color on his cheeks, and was struck with another one of those waves of soul-shaking affection for the man before him. “It wasn’t a gamble.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo had taken his glasses off to rub at his teary eyes. “Hm?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “It wasn’t a gamble,” Die repeated, “because I love you. <em>You</em> are the thing I was concerned about keeping, more than one contract or another. You’re worth more to me than any of that, so it didn’t feel like a gamble at all. It felt like… being honest for once, not just with the press, but with myself. You taught me that.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo wasn’t laughing anymore. He put his glasses back on and didn’t quite meet Die’s eyes, and the car showed up.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die thought they might be in for another quiet car ride, but Kyo spoke up after only a few minutes.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Am I really worth it?” he asked softly. “Even… After what I told you, and everything that’s happened since then, I thought you might not want to be with me anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “When did I say that?” Die asked, confused. “Or what makes you think…” He sighed. “I should have been in touch more while I was abroad, I know.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I didn’t blame you,” Kyo said. “I get that it’s a lot, and that—that you could have anyone, certainly you could find a partner more suited to your needs.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Never,” Die said. “While I was in Paris, I… spent a lot of time thinking about what you’d said. And after I got over hating myself for probably taking advantage of you, I tried to keep in mind that it’s not <em>about</em> me. And then I did… well, a lot of reading.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo finally looked over at him. “Reading?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “About asexuality,” Die said. “And it’s… fucking complicated, and different for everyone—like you told me.” He shook his head. “But that’s not—I realized, it’s not that important. You’d be worth everything to me, even if we never have sex again, because I care about what we have together, and it’s so much more than just that. I love you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo kept meeting his gaze. “I love you too.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I want to be with you,” Die said. “We can figure out the details of what that means as far as physical intimacy as we go, as long as I can learn how to make sure you’re comfortable at all times.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m not sex-repulsed,” Kyo said. “And I’m not traumatized, I just…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You just don’t want me to… focus on you,” Die said carefully.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded. “But if I wasn’t willing to do <em>anything</em>, I never would have pushed us in that direction.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I think I understand,” Die said. “At first, I admit, I was—<em>sad</em> to find out that you didn’t experience the same kind of connection that I thought we were sharing. But I think I’ve started to get that you just get something <em>different</em> out of it than I do?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo nodded again, eagerly. “That’s right! It's, you know, kind of fun to work you up. And, I—I like being able to give you something that you find so meaningful. I wouldn’t want to take that away from you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And as long as I can meet <em>your</em> needs, too…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can,” Kyo said. “I mean, you <em>do</em>. Just spending time with you and being <em>close</em> means a lot to me. There are more types of intimacy than just sex.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then—If we <em>do</em> have sex, maybe afterwards, cuddling would be an important part of that? So it’s not all about me. Although I do also love cuddling.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Cuddling and talking would be… really nice.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And here I thought you didn’t like talking,” Die said. “I seem to recall, when we met…”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Yeah, when I’m trying to <em>work</em>,” Kyo said with a dubious sort of look. “But I like talking to <em>you</em>. I like hearing what you think about things, and making you laugh, and learning about you. It makes me feel closer.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die reached for Kyo’s hand and held it tight. “Do you trust me?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “More than I ever expected to.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Then you won’t keep something important like this from me again, right?” Die said hopefully. He didn’t mean it to sound judgmental or accusatory, but it was hard to quell that part of him that was so terrified of accidentally taking advantage of Kyo again.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo looked away. “I never meant to keep it from you. I just didn’t want you to think—exactly what you thought. That I didn’t <em>care</em> about you in the right way, or that you had hurt me, or that I didn’t value our relationship. I don’t experience sexual attraction the way that you do, but that doesn’t make my feelings for you any less. I was trying to keep you from getting hurt.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I get that,” Die said, “but I’m in this 100%, and that won’t change just because you’re honest with me. If there’s ever something you don’t want, you can tell me. <em>Please</em> tell me.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can fuck me,” Kyo said abruptly.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I—What, right now?” Die said, caught by surprise.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo snorted, glanced up towards the exceedingly discreet driver, so politely ignoring their overly personal conversation. “Not what I meant. I was just talking about, you know, sometimes. I don’t get much out of that particular act, but I know it means a lot to you, and it feels good for you, so I don’t mind.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Die could tell this really was going to take even more navigation that he wanted to admit, but he couldn’t think of anyone better to figure it out with. “You’re allowed to retract that any time, at a moment’s notice. I have two perfectly good hands of my own.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Kyo smiled. “You know, you really are different. From the assholes whose hair I cut before you, from the people I slept with… You make me feel safe, and appreciated, and that’s everything.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Can I kiss you?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Always.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Mindful that they were still in the car, Die kept the kiss brief and chaste, but it was still so perfect it almost hurt, and Die was overflowing with gratitude that he was the person allowed to kiss Kyo that way.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And to see that Kyo was still smiling when the kiss ended.</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “So!” Die said, keeping his fingers linked with Kyo’s. “What were you and Kaoru talking about while I worked things out with Boo? He’s got some kind of hot date?”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ugh,” Kyo said, tipping his head back against the seat. “You know, you could have warned me about him showing up at the salon yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right, ‘cause you were so readily responding to all my texts.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “…Okay, that’s fair. Won’t happen again.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re gonna cut his hair though?” Die leaned into Kyo’s shoulder. “Maybe you should cut mine, too, for real. What do you think? It might be time for a change.”</span>
</p>
<p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He listened half-dreamily as Kyo went into full stylist mode, talking about different lengths and styles that would look good on Die as compared with his intentions for Kaoru, and the notion of interrupting never occurred to him. <em>This</em> was the real intimacy. Die knew now that he was special because Kyo was willing to share something as private as his thoughts, his mind, and he could be content to hear him talk about anything and everything for all their days to come.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Whew! Finished!<br/>Wow, I can't even tell y'all how much it means to me that you were willing to stick with this, even when it was uncomfortable and frustrating and not fun at all. I felt so nervous about posting this story that I thought maybe no one would like, or that only felt important to me, and getting your support and comments throughout has just been... yeah. Thank you. I know, as with ending any story, I might come back to it in a few weeks or months or years and wish I'd done things a bit differently, but I hope this ending is (mostly) satisfying.<br/>Thank you again, and lots of love. <br/>PS Not sure what day exactly, but something new and unrelated will be up next week! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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